Dedication

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Dedication

My father! unto thee to whom I owe

All that I am, all that I have and can;

Who madest me in thyself the sum of man

In all his generous aims and powers to know,

These first-fruits bring I; nor do thou forego

Marking when I the boyish feat began,

Which numbers now near three years from its plan,

Not twenty summers had imbrowned my brow.

Life is at blood-heat every page doth prove.

Bear with it. Nature means Necessity.

If here be aught which thou canst love, it springs

Out of the hope that I may earn that love

More unto me than immortality;

Or to have strang my harp with golden strings.