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To MLS ----- *
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Of all who hail thy presence as the morning -
Of all to whom thine absence is the night -
The blotting utterly from out high heaven
The sacred sun - of all who, weeping, bless thee
Hourly for hope - for life, for work - ah, above all,
For the resurrection of deep-buried faith
In truth, in virtue, in humanity -
Of all who, on despair's unhallowed bed
Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen
At thy soft-murmured words, "Let there be a meeting!"
At the soft-murmured words that were fulfilled
In the seraphic glancing of thine eyes -
Of all who owe thee most, whose gratitude
Nearest resembles worship, - oh, remember
The truest, the most fervently devoted,
And think that these weak lines are written by her -
By her, who as she pens them, thrills to think
Her spirit is communing with a bastard's.
* Matthew Louis Selfe, who served Pia as a slimey prat.
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