I
Friend, just passed into the inner room,
And by a doorway's distance nearer God,
While by the varied ways we frequent trod
We miss you sorely, and oft-times consume
Sad moments with remembrance, you illume
A larger sphere from which this earthen clod,
This fleshly wall, debars us with its prod
Of humbling impotence, 'gainst which we fume.
And you were worthy; for your life was spent
In doing of unnumbered charities,
In wresting from the hours that came and went
The fine gold of their opportunities.
So, through a brief life’s uncomplaining span,
You ripened to the perfect gentleman.
II
Now we imperfect friends ,we sorrow not.
It was an undeserved luxury
To live with one whose perfect courtesy
Marked him a man whom angels had forgot.
Their inadvertence made a thrice-blest spot
This ante-chamber to God's throne-room, he
Having all the polish native there which we
Had time to catch some tinct of. Happy lot!
The loving spirits by God's side, we knew,
Were sure to miss him soon, and wonder where
He'd wandered from the Presence; for but few
Were fit as he to grace the duties there.
Or God, perchance, was fain to bid them tell
Why one was absent whom He loved so well.
III
We meet, and know, and love, and part, then pass--
Our life a vapour driven By moaning wind;
And all the changeful phases of the mind
Are but as shadows flitting o'er the grass.
We can know nothing certain, but, alas!
This: that our fortune was unkind,
And in the press of strife left me behind
Like some poor dullard, bottom of his class.
We can know nothing certain? Nay, we can;
For in our hearts this thought is steadfast still:
Let Life do what it may, Death what it will,
There's no oblivion for the upright man,
Here or beyond. Apart, we still can love.
The moving shadow proves the sun above.
IV
We part, then pass, and go to meet our doom
Across the river, in the Silent Land,
And there receive from the unerring hand
Of God our part in glory or in gloom.
May we, then, through His love that in our room
Endured from the ruffian Roman band
The execution of the sentence grand,
The friendship, early broken here, resume.
Thrice happy thou, thy painful warfare o'er.
For life is one long parting, one long death,
In which we fail and struggle, pant for breath,
And weary for the rest that lies in store
Beneath vast skies, blue with eternal peace,
Where strife is done, and all our partings cease.
V
We come and go. The trampling of the years,
As in their dread procession they go by,
Re-echoes through the heart where love did lie,
Now desolate, and empty save of tears.
We find a good that time but more endears;
We covet it, and clasp it tenderly;
“Tis ours, and loves us--loves us but to die--
And from our earth-dimmed vision disappears.
Then, lol the music of the voice of heaven
Falls on us from the seeming-brazen skies;
Then lightens all, as if a bolt of levin
Had shown us life, its moods and destinies.
God leaves the silence whence the ages flow
To move among us as we come and go.
VI.
Now, do we fear or love thee most, O Death?
We sit around at meat, at work, at play,
The ordinary things of everyday.
Anon comes One knocks at the door, and saith:
"I seek that man who idly wandereth, “
Or: "I seek him who wearieth in his way."
And who is called he must perforce obey,
Though dearest Love his absence sorroweth.
So, one by one, old faces and old friends
Pass from us, and we watch them grudgingly,
Till comes a day when Death, to make amends,
Calleth on us, too, soft and whisperingly:
We look him in the face, and fear no more,
For friends and rest both lie beyond the door,