TO CATULLUS

My brother, my Valerius, dearest head

Of all whose crowning bay-leaves crown their mother

Rome, in the notes first heard of thine I read

My brother.

No dust that death or time can strew may smother

Love and the sense of kinship inly bred

From loves and hates at one with one another.

To thee was Caesar's self nor dear nor dread,

Song and the sea were sweeter each than other:

How should I living fear to call thee dead

My brother?