Page:A Century of Roundels.djvu/35

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A Dead Friend.


True and tender, single-souled,
 What should memory do
Weeping o'er the trust we hold

 Known and loved of few,
But of these, though small their fold,
 Loved how well were you!

Change, that makes of new things old,
 Leaves one old thing new;
Love which promised truth, and told