Henry in Ireland to Bill underground: br Rest well, who worked so hard, who made a good sound br constantly, for so many years: br your high-jinks delighted the continents & our ears: br you had so many girls your life was a triumph br and you loved your one wife. br br At dawn you rose & wrote—the books poured forth— br you delivered infinite babies, in one great birth— br and your generosity br to juniors made you deeply loved, deeply: br if envy was a Henry trademark, he would envy you, br especially the being through. br br Too many journeys lie for him ahead, br too many galleys & page-proofs to be read, br he would like to lie down br in your sweet silence, to whom was not denied br the mysterious late excellence which is the crown br of our trials & our last bride.