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 where She 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; No 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.