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[187] Of one who was thy friendship's honored guest
     And drank the wine of consolation pressed
From sorrows of thy own.

I leave with thee a sense
     Of hands upheld and trials rendered less—
The unselfish joy which is to helpfulness
     Its own great recompense;

The knowledge that from thine,
     As from the garments of the Master, stole
Calmness and strength, the virtue which makes whole
     And heals without a sign;

Yea more, the assurance strong
     That love, which fails of perfect utterance here,
Lives on to fill the heavenly atmosphere
     With its immortal song.


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1887 AD (1)
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