*
"The Book of Odes", by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1908],

p. 40

"A Friend Forgotten\"

The winds blow soft from the East,

But the storm welters by.

In the day of disaster and fear,

It was all you and I.

In the hour of your pride

You have cast me aside.

The bland winds blown from the East

Tornadoes pursue.

In the hour of disaster and fear

More than brother were you.

In the hour of delight

I am cast from your sight.

The winds come fair from the East

On the hills overhead

There is never a blade that is green,

Not a leaf but is dead.

My worth you forget,

But my faults linger yet.