One gave me aid, another, praise,

And after that, were many praising.

Not to them I'll write.

Their empty words and carping ways

Gave standards false from which

I 'scaped just in time.

Appreciation and my thanks to them

But not to them my rhyme.

I'll write to one whose saner ways

Induce to high and steady thought,

Whose praise is never empty,

And in Mem'ry of immortal days

That, come what may, are ever blest,

I'll dedicate each thing I write

To her, and know that, in itself,

That dedication is success.