The poem
My brother, my Valerius, dearest head Of all whose crowning bay-leaves crown their mother Rome, in the notes first heard of thine I read My brother.
No dust that death or time can strew may smother Love and the sense of kinship inly bred From loves and hates at one with one another.
To thee was Caesar's self nor dear nor dread, Song and the sea were sweeter each than other: How should I living fear to call thee dead My brother?