So we, who ’ve supped the self-same
cup,
To-night must lay our friendship
by;
Your wrath has burned your judgment up,
Hot breath has blown the ashes
high.
You say that you are wronged—ah,
well,
I count that friendship poor,
at best
A bauble, a mere bagatelle,
That cannot stand so slight
a test.
I fain would still have been your friend,
And talked and laughed and
loved with you;
But since it must, why, let it end;
The false but dies, ’t
is not the true.
So we are favored, you and I,
Who only want the living truth.
It was not good to nurse the lie;
’T is well it died in
harmless youth.
I go from you to-night to sleep.
Why, what’s the odds?
why should I grieve?
I have no fund of tears to weep
For happenings that undeceive.
The days shall come, the days shall go
Just as they came and went
before.
The sun shall shine, the streams shall
flow
Though you and I are friends
no more.
And in the volume of my years,
Where all my thoughts and
acts shall be,
The page whereon your name appears
Shall be forever sealed to
me.
Not that I hate you over-much,
’T is less of hate than
love defied;
Howe’er, our hands no more shall
touch,
We ’ll go our ways,
the world is wide.
BEYOND THE YEARS
I
Beyond the years the answer lies,
Beyond where brood the grieving skies
And Night drops
tears.
Where Faith rod-chastened smiles to rise
And doff its fears,
And carping Sorrow pines and dies—
Beyond the years.
II
Beyond the years the prayer for rest
Shall beat no more within the breast;
The darkness clears,
And Morn perched on the mountain’s
crest
Her form uprears—
The day that is to come is best,
Beyond the years.
III
Beyond the years the soul shall find
That endless peace for which it pined,
For light appears,
And to the eyes that still were blind
With blood and
tears,
Their sight shall come all unconfined
Beyond the years.
AFTER A VISIT
I be’n down in ole Kentucky
Fur a week er two, an’
say,
‘T wuz ez hard ez breakin’
oxen
Fur to tear myse’f away.
Allus argerin’ ’bout fren’ship
An’ yer hospitality—
Y’ ain’t no right to talk
about it
Tell you be’n down there
to see.
See jest how they give you welcome
To the best that’s in
the land,
Feel the sort o’ grip they give
you
When they take you by the
hand.
Hear ’em say, “We ’re
glad to have you,
Better stay a week er two;”
An’ the way they treat you makes
you
Feel that ev’ry word
is true.