 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
TO A DEPARTED FRIEND
Dear friend, who lovedst well this pleasant life!One year ago it is this very day
Since thou didst take thy uncompanioned way
Into the silent land, from out the strife
And joyful tumult of the world. The knife
Wherewith that sorrow cut us still doth stay,
And we, to whom thou daily didst betray
Thy gentle soul, with faith and worship rife,
Love thee not less but more—as time doth go
And we too hasten toward that land unknown
Where those most dear are gathering one by one.
The power divine that here did touch thy heart—
Hath this withdrawn from thee, where now thou art?
Would thou indeed couldst tell what thou dost know!
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |