In Memoriam coverCHAPTER 108
CHAPTER 108

CHAPTER CVIII

CHAPTER 108Visible text2 paragraphs
Thy converse drew us with delight,
The men of rathe and riper years:
The feeble soul, a haunt of fears,
Forgot his weakness in thy sight.
On thee the loyal-hearted hung,
The proud was half disarm'd of pride,
Nor cared the serpent at thy side
To flicker with his treble tongue.