Hold, hold — I am not one the memory spurns,Can noble souls forget the grace one earns?
Didst thou not show me kindness, love, and care,That for thy tenderness I left kin there?
How many favours thou didst grant to me,I nearly lost my senses thinking thee;
In thee are meanings rich, a noble store,That lighten, O my brother, what I bore;
Today I learned that love is covenant high,A crown exalted for the souls that vie;
All people may forget what time erases,But I am not of those whom memory chases;
How could I, when thy tender love was near,My solace, staying with me year by year;
How many times I met thee as a shade,Embracing me with longing's sweet parade.