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| AS one who, walking in the twilight gloom, | |
| Hears round about him voices as it darkens, | |
| And seeing not the forms from which they come, | |
| Pauses from time to time, and turns and hearkens; | |
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| So walking here in twilight, O my friends! | 5 |
| I hear your voices, softened by the distance, | |
| And pause, and turn to listen, as each sends | |
| His words of friendship, comfort, and assistance. | |
| |
| If any thought of mine, or sung or told, | |
| Has ever given delight or consolation, | 10 |
| Ye have repaid me back a thousand-fold, | |
| By every friendly sign and salutation. | |
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| Thanks for the sympathies that ye have shown! | |
| Thanks for each kindly word, each silent token, | |
| That teaches me, when seeming most alone, | 15 |
| Friends are around us, though no word be spoken. | |
| |
| Kind messages, that pass from land to land; | |
| Kind letters, that betray the heart’s deep history, | |
| In which we feel the pressure of a hand,— | |
| One touch of fire,—and all the rest is mystery! | 20 |
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| The pleasant books, that silently among | |
| Our household treasures take familiar places, | |
| And are to us as if a living tongue | |
| Spake from the printed leaves or pictured faces! | |
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| Perhaps on earth I never shall behold, | 25 |
| With eye of sense, your outward form and semblance; | |
| Therefore to me ye never will grow old, | |
| But live forever young in my remembrance! | |
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| Never grow old, nor change, nor pass away! | |
| Your gentle voices will flow on forever, | 30 |
| When life grows bare and tarnished with decay, | |
| As through a leafless landscape flows a river. | |
| |
| Not chance of birth or place has made us friends, | |
| Being oftentimes of different tongues and nations, | |
| But the endeavor for the selfsame ends, | 35 |
| With the same hopes, and fears, and aspirations. | |
| |
| Therefore I hope to join your seaside walk, | |
| Saddened, and mostly silent, with emotion; | |
| Not interrupting with intrusive talk | |
| The grand, majestic symphonies of ocean. | 40 |
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| Therefore I hope, as no unwelcome guest, | |
| At your warm fireside, when the lamps are lighted, | |
| To have my place reserved among the rest, | |
| Nor stand as one unsought and uninvited! | |
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