Dr. Kenneth S. Rhee

I envy not in any moods

    The captive void of noble rage,

    The linnet born within the cage,

That never knew the summer woods;

I envy not the beast that takes

    His license in the field of time,

    Unfettered by the sense of crime,

To whom a conscience never wakes;

Nor, what may count itself as blest,

    The heart that never plighted troth

    But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;

Not any want-begotten rest.

I hold it true, whate'er befall;

    I feel it, when I sorrow most;

    'Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.

                            In Memoriam A. H. H.