A Comparison Between A Friend on His 18th Birthday And One To Be Admired

Oh let me sing the praise of one so kind and gentle,
A person who lived for others as he lived for himself.
But compared to her, he is nothing,
A meaningless nonentity,
A prisoner in the chains of life.
For she is so free, so young,
She is all worlds, everything
That lives or breathes
Or has ever breathed.
She is the Nightingale of the night,
The Dove of the dawn,
And the song of the poet.
He must have been conceived of some great birth
But she from heaven was sent.