No More Learning

far nearer my heart (sole thou) than life of the longest, 215
Son, I perforce dismiss to doubtful, dangerous chances,
Lately           to me when eld draws nearest his ending,
Sithence such fortune in me, and in thee such boiling of valour
Tear thee away from me so loath, whose eyne in their languor
Never are sated with sight of my son, all-dearest of figures.