“There are many and more

who would kiss my hand,

taste my lips,

to my loneliness lend

their bodies’ warmth.

 

I have want of a friend.

 

There are few, some few,

Who would give their names

And fortunes rich

Or send first sons

To my ailing bed.

 

I have need of a friend.

 

There is one and only one

Who will give the air

From his failing lungs

For my body’s mend.

 

And that one is my love.”/