Page:The collected poems, lyrical and narrative, of A. Mary F. Robinson.djvu/126

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

The Dead Friend

When you were alive, at least,
There were days I never met you.
In the study, at the feast.
By the hearth, I could forget you.

Moods there were of many days
When, methinks, I did not mind you.
Now, oh now, in any place
Wheresoe'er I go, I find you !

You … but how profoundly changed,
O you dear-belov'd dead woman !
Made mysterious and estranged.
All-pervading, superhuman.

Ah! to meet you as of yore.
Kind, alert, and quick to laughter:
You, the friend I loved Before;
Not this tragic friend of After.

104