Classic Poem

O FRIEND ! whose name is closely bound with mine,
How often when thy soul its body wore,
We spake of those who spake with us no more,
And eager sought their nearness to divine.
To-day I stand with just this grave of thine
And the remembrance of the days before,
Which time and place so vividly restore
That sense of death and dust I can resign.
Once it was here thy fancy used to seek,
In Nature's simple play midst flower and tree,
In sudden tremor of a dear grave's grass,
Some subtile recognition: — thus then speak,
O soul that knowest all and now art free,
To her who still can only guess and pass!