Classic Poem

I LEAVE this book for you, O friend of mine,
To speak for me that day my lips are dumb;
A silent messenger I bid it come
To gain the welcome I must needs resign.
I pray you on that night you miss me most,
That night when most you crave a word of me,
Beside your fire and once again my host,
Open this book and greet me silently;
And read the poem that the worn page shows
I loved the best, and linger on the line
I marked there, as to say, “Lo, once a rose
I closed here for your finding, that was mine.”
And otherwhere, I know that you will say,
“Perchance she smiled here,” and your smile will break
Upon your lips for our old laughter's sake,
And I shall hear, though very far away.
And in your reading if perchance you see
Upon one page a stain a tear might leave,
I doubt not our two hands may meet and cleave
Once more in their old bond of sympathy.
Yea, in the mists of that dim borderland,
Beyond our wildered thought of time and space,
I think our souls a little while may stand
And look a moment in each other's face.