Classic Poem

Fair be thy fortunes in the distant land,
Companion of my earlier years and friend!
Go to the Eastern world, and may the hand
Of Heaven its blessing on thy labor send.
And may I, if we ever more should meet,
See thee with affluence to thy native shore
Return'd;—I need not pray that I may greet
The same untainted goodness as before.
Long years must intervene before that day;
And what the changes Heaven to each may send,
It boots not now to bode: O early friend!
Assured, no distance e'er can wear away
Esteem long rooted, and no change remove
The dear remembrance of the friend we love.