The Lost Friend

 The people take the thing of course,
They marvel not to see
This strange, unnatural divorce
Betwixt delight and me.



I know the face of sorrow, and I know
Her voice with all its varied cadences;
Which way she turns and treads; how at her ease
Things fit her dreary largess to bestow.


Where sorrow long abides, some be that grow
To hold her dear, but I am not of these;
Joy is my friend, not sorrow; by strange seas,
In some far land we wandered, long ago.


O faith, long tried, that knows no faltering!
O vanished treasure of her hands and face!--
Beloved--to whose memory I cling,
Unmoved within my heart she holds her place.


And never shall I hail that other "friend,"
Who yet shall dog my footsteps to the end.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...