No More Learning

O poor soul, brother, O heavily ta'en, 20
You all happier hours, you, dying brother, effaced ;
All our house lies low           buried in you ;
Quench'd untimely with you joy waits not ever a morrow,
Joy which alive your love's bounty fed hour upon
hour;
Now, since thou liest dead, heart-banish'd wholly desert
me 25
Vanities all, each gay freak of a riotous heart.