 | Poems with Fables in Prose |  |
161
How shall I find . . .
How shall I find that friend
Of the rare friends, the deep-hearted?
When the delicate revels end
And the masquers have all departed,
At a sudden hour and a drear,
For the sweet hour is the sternest,
Thou shalt know who held thee dear,
Whose hand was thine in earnest.
Of the rare friends, the deep-hearted?
When the delicate revels end
And the masquers have all departed,
At a sudden hour and a drear,
For the sweet hour is the sternest,
Thou shalt know who held thee dear,
Whose hand was thine in earnest.
Then unguess'd at thy side
Ere Terror's ban be lifted,
Though few, few, shall abide
Of the many that are sifted,
Some bugle's charge may wake
Upon thy soul to seal them—
Some battling dawn may break
And eye to eye reveal them.
Ere Terror's ban be lifted,
Though few, few, shall abide
Of the many that are sifted,
Some bugle's charge may wake
Upon thy soul to seal them—
Some battling dawn may break
And eye to eye reveal them.
Yet, yet, should no eye then
Its light or fealty send thee,
No voice of sons of men
Across the wastes befriend thee,
Stand by thyself, for prayer.
For the very God will waken,
When thou shalt shake despair
Out of a heart unshaken.
Its light or fealty send thee,
No voice of sons of men
Across the wastes befriend thee,
Stand by thyself, for prayer.
For the very God will waken,
When thou shalt shake despair
Out of a heart unshaken.
| Poems with Fables in Prose | |