To William.
(At an immense distance after Poe.)
William, thy “glamour” is to me
Like these torpedo barks that oft
Go forth on the unvintaged sea
Fresh from the yards of Thornycroft;
Their mission—to blow ships aloft!
Through frantic speeches wont to foam,
Thy tongue, that could not be at peace,
Has brought us, for the “Rule” called “Home,”