But thou!--through grief's untimely tears
We ask with half-reproachful sigh--
"Couldst thou not watch a few brief years
Till Friendship faltered, 'Thou mayst die'?"

Who loved our boyish years so well?
Who knew so well their pleasant tales,
And all those livelier freaks could tell
Whose oft-told story never fails?
In vain we turn our aching eyes,--
In vain we stretch our eager hands,--
Cold in his wintry shroud he lies
Beneath the dreary drifting sands!

Ah, speak not thus! _He_ lies not there!
We see him, hear him as of old!
He comes! He claims his wonted chair;
His beaming face we still behold!
His voice rings clear in all our songs,
And loud his mirthful accents rise;
To us our brother's life belongs,--
Dear friends, a classmate never dies!





THE LAST CHARGE

1864