Learned—with some tears—to keep a steadfast mind,
And think more kindly of my own poor kind.
He read the verses through, shaking his wig.
"Perhaps ... perhaps"—he whispered to himself,
"I'd better leave it to the will of God.
They might upset my own. I do not think
They'd understand. Jocelyn might, perhaps;
And Dick, if only they were left alone.
But Rosalind never; nor that nephew of mine,
The witty politician. No. No. No.