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Poem	If anybody's friend be dead It's sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive -- At such and such a time -- Their costume, of a Sunday, Some manner of the Hair -- A prank nobody knew but them Lost, in the Sepulchre -- How warm, they were, on such a day, You almost feel the date -- So short way off it seems -- And now -- they're Centuries from that -- How pleased they were, at what you said -- You try to touch the smile And dip your fingers in the frost -- When was it -- Can you tell -- You asked the Company to tea -- Acquaintance -- just a few -- And chatted close with this Grand Thing That don't remember you -- Past Bows, and Invitations -- Past Interview, and Vow -- Past what Ourself can estimate -- That -- makes the Quick of Woe!
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