BALLADE OF DEAD FRIENDS
As we the withered ferns
By the roadway lying,
Time, the jester, spurns
All our prayers and prying—
All our tears and sighing,
Sorrow, change, and woe—
All our where-and-whying
For friends that come and go.
Life awakes and burns,
Age and death defying,
Till at last it learns
All but Love is dying;
Love's the trade we're plying,
God has willed it so;
Shrouds are what we're buying
For friends that come and go.
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