There was no exaggeration in his expressions of grief, or in the verses in which he poured out his soul:-- 'I loved him with a strength of love[35] Which man to man can only bear When one in station far above The rest of men, yet deigns to share A friendship true with those far down The ranks: as though a mighty king, Girt with his armies of renown, Should call within his narrow ring Of counsellors and chosen friends Some youth who scarce can understand How it began or how it ends That he should grasp the monarch's hand.' To all those to whom a great friendship has been given, a friendship, not on equal terms, but one in which the chief elements on one side have been reverence and gratitude, on the other affectionate approval and esteem, to all these fortunate souls these letters and verses will appeal. For it is no small matter in a man's life that he should have had a passionate friendship for a great man, a real leader; and it is a still greater matter that the younger man should have found his confidence, his devotion, his reverence worthily bestowed. _To Francis Darwin, Esq._ 18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 18, 1885. Dear Darwin,--I will think over the conversations and write you again whether there is anything that would do for publishing. Meanwhile I send for your perusal some verses which I have written at odds and ends of time since he died. This was only done for my own gratification, and without any view to publishing. But having recently had them put together and copied out, I have sent them to two or three of the best poetical critics for their opinion upon the literary merits of the poem as a whole. The result of this has been more satisfactory than I anticipated; and as one of them suggests that I should offer the verses as an addendum to the biography, I act upon the coincidence of receiving your letter and his at about the same time. It seems to me there are two things for you to consider: first, whether anything in the way of poetry, however good, is desirable; and next, if so, whether this poetry is good enough for the occasion. The first question would be answered by your own feelings, and the second, I suppose, by submitting the verses to some good authority for an opinion--say one to whom I have not sent them. Only, if the matter were to go as far as this, I should like you to explain to the critic that as it stands the poem is only in the rough. If it were to be revised for publication I should spend a good deal of trouble over the process of polishing, and some of the lines expressive of passionate grief would be altogether changed.