In Memoriam 63. [Yet pity for a horse o’er-driven]

Yet pity for a horse o’er-driven,
      And love in which my hound has part,
      Can hang no weight upon my heart
In its assumptions up to heaven;

And I am so much more than these,
      As thou, perchance, art more than I,
      And yet I spare them sympathy,
And I would set their pains at ease.

So mayst thou watch me where I weep,
      As, unto vaster motions bound,
      The circuits of thine orbit round
A higher height, a deeper deep.

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