| |
| AFTER so long an absence | |
| At last we meet again: | |
| Does the meeting give us pleasure, | |
| Or does it give us pain? | |
| |
| The tree of life has been shaken, | 5 |
| And but few of us linger now, | |
| Like the Prophet’s two or three berries | |
| In the top of the uppermost bough. | |
| |
| We cordially greet each other | |
| In the old, familiar tone; | 10 |
| And we think, though we do not say it, | |
| How old and gray he is grown! | |
| |
| We speak of a Merry Christmas | |
| And many a Happy New Year; | |
| But each in his heart is thinking | 15 |
| Of those that are not here. | |
| |
| We speak of friends and their fortunes, | |
| And of what they did and said, | |
| Till the dead alone seem living, | |
| And the living alone seem dead. | 20 |
| |
| And at last we hardly distinguish | |
| Between the ghosts and the guests; | |
| And a mist and shadow of sadness | |
| Steals over our merriest jests. | |
| |
