I HAD heard friendship praised, and praised it, too,
And knew that none is by another less
If each be part of Beauty, friend or flower.
But till we met — by Chance inevitable,
Which is the only Fate, say what they will —
The teeming horn of Plenty still was myth.
Sacred from that first moment, thou hast filled
The imagination to the quaffing brim —
Thou of the brave and spiritual eyes,
Wide brow of wisdom, mouth as sensitive
To humor as to tears, those generous lips,
The gateway of the soul, whence, issuing
In velvet voice, thy words serene have brought
Message of healing to the hurts of men.
Thus art thou more than Greek, though featured fair
With true proportions of Hellenic art.
I do not give a breath to Juliet's sigh
" Too early seen unknown and known too late, "
Since I have dower of thy companionship,
And dwell within thy precincts of repose.
What if my sun be westering? Where's the light
More lovely than the shadowy afternoon?
A sacrament of friendship shall be ours.
We shall with clarion moments multiplied
Outwit the pendulum of drowsy Time;
For we shall make a day of every hour,
A month of every sacrificial day,
Lengthen the joyous months to envied years
Till all the happy calendar shall show
A festal record, and the future be
What the past would have been had we but met.
Our life, suffused with music, now shall thrill
As though each symphony had been writ for us.
We shall find rest in Art, in Nature hope,
Yet dwell not far from Sorrow's daily need.
Come, lead me to the everlasting heights,
And we'll achieve a friendship better than love —
Loyal, devoted, constant, deep and pure.


And I will be your laureate to the end.