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a web of many textures

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The hand still warm with the imparted touch
Of friendly farewell, and the ears still hearing
The sounds of kindness that we 've prizéd much,
That long our varied pathway have been cheering,
We scarce can deem that touch has been the last,
Or that the words which friendship's tongue has spoken
Will be but tender memories of the past —
Strains of a lute whose strings are rudely broken.
'T is hard to feel that smiles we know to-day,
Blessing our pathway with their radiance cheering,
May ere the sunset fade in gloom away,
In death's dark shade forever disappearing;
That the warm heart which, throbbing with our own,
Has felt with us, e'en now, each joy and sorrow,
May cease its sweet and sympathetic tone,
And leave us sad and lonely on the morrow.


Page 358
But such is fate, and the entwining ties
By which the lives of men are here united
May break like threads of wax before our eyes,
And all our fondest schemes of love be blighted!
Vicissitudes o'er every moment lower,
And life's full cup, with pleasure's cordial brimming,
May be o'erturned by some mysterious power,
Or its fair surface with hot tears be dimming.
But for a day — and fairer scenes await
The passage of the loved across the river,
And what we know as Death is but the gate
To scenes beyond of joy and peace forever.
And we take heart in faith sublime as this,
And see a loving hand to us extended,
To help us on the road that leads to bliss
When earth's dull pilgrimage with us is ended.
We joy to think that friends thus gone before
May still be mingling their fond hearts with ours;
That love enkindled on time's shifting shore
May live anew with more exalted powers;
That by our side they now as then may stand,
And smile upon us with benigner feeling,
Shedding the influence of the better land,
And newer promise of its state revealing.