NEW POEMS
VII
VERSES WRITTEN IN 1872
1
THOUGH he that ever kind and true,
Kept stoutly step by step with you
Your whole long gusty lifetime through
Be gone a while before,
Be now a moment gone before,
Yet, doubt not, soon the seasons shall restore
Your friend to you.
2
He has but turned a corner—still
He pushes on with right good will,
Thro' mire and marsh, by heugh and hill
That self-same arduous way,—
That self-same upland hopeful way,
That you and he through many a doubtful day
Attempted still.
3
He is not dead, this friend—not dead,
But, in the path we mortals tread,
Got some few, trifling steps ahead,
And nearer to the end,
So that you, too, once past the bend,
Shall meet again, as face to face, this friend
You fancy dead.
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