Volume 4 — TO A FRIEND,

In losing thee, dear friend, I seem to fare Forth from the lintel of some chamber bright, Whose lamps in rosy sorcery lend their light To flowery alcove or luxurious chair; Whose burly and glowing logs, of mellow flare, The happiest converse at their hearth invite, With many a flash of tawny flame to smite The Dante in vellum or the bronze Voltaire! And yet, however stern the estrangement be, However time with laggard lapse may fret, That haunt of our fond friendship I shall hold As loved this hour as when elate I see Its draperies, dark with absence and regret, Slide softly back on memory's rings of gold!