Dear Friend of Old
The days since last I clasped your hands,
And looked into your face
Seem multiplied, as desert sands,
And yet, how swift their pace!
The many miles that intervene
Of river, plain, and mountain trail
Stretch, oh, so endlessly between,
As distance woven in a veil.
The little cares that bind and hold
The housing of my spirit here,
Are bands of steel; (or are they gold?
For duty is both stern and dear.)
Not Time, nor Space, nor Cares That Be,
Can my desire dissever.
My thought is free to be with thee,
Dear friend, my friend forever.