Classic Poem

Departed friend, by thy lone grave I stand,
Like thee, a pilgrim in this alien land;
And with a tribute tear, all mournfully,
I meditate, dear friend, in thoughts of thee.

I call the parted years, — they come no more
In fancy only can I tread that shore
Where mirth, and joy, and charming melody
Made up, dear friend, my intercourse with thee.

Thy home no more to know its master's tread;
Our genial comrades scattered, haply dead;
Youth, hopes all buoyant, genius bright and free, —
Gone, gone, forever gone, dear friend, with thee.

Midst London's dead I leave thee here to rest;
No mortal care can now distract thy breast;
But in a bright hereafter may I see
All earthly loss repaired, dear friend, with thee.