Dear Sister, you, Charles, and me—we three,
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raised together by our Mother: I love
you all; but this sonnet is writ for thee,
and for thee alone: for you are, above
all, my sibling Achates, bosom friend
of my youth and help in my poverty
and suffering—you are to me godsend.
I do not know the wherefore or the why
of my sad, sorry life: why nevermore
can I be the one you once looked up to,
the one to protect you as in times before:—
all the same, I'm forever indebted to you.
So, because of your sister's love for me,
God has created His Heaven for thee.