My Friend
(Macmillan’s Magazine, Dec. 1864.)
Two days ago with dancing glancing hair,With living lips and eyes:Now pale, dumb, blind, she lies;So pale, yet still so fair.
We have not left her yet, not yet alone;But soon must leave her whereShe will not miss our care,Bone of our bone.
Weep not; O friends, we should not weep:Our friend of friends lies full of rest; 10No sorrow rankles in her breast,Fallen fast asleep.
She sleeps below,She wakes and laughs above:To-day, as she walked, let us walk in love;To-morrow follow so.