The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,

And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

Leigh Hunt [1784-1859]

ENVOY

From "More Songs from Vagabondia "

I

WHOSE furthest footstep never strayed
Beyond the village of his birth,
Is but a lodger for the night
In this old wayside inn of earth.

To-morrow he shall take his pack,
And set out for the ways beyond,
On the old trail from star to star,
An alien and a vagabond.

II

If any record of our names

Be blown about the hills of time,
Let no one sunder us in death,-
The man of paint, the men of rhyme.

Of all our good, of all our bad,
This one thing only is of worth,—
We held the league of heart to heart

The only purpose of the earth.

Richard Hovey [1864–1900]

FRIENDS

You ask me "why I like him." Nay,
I cannot; nay, I would not, say.
I think it vile to pigeonhole

The pros and cons of a kindred soul.

A Friend

"wonder he should be my friend." then why should you comprehend? nk God for this- -a new-surprise: eyes, remember, are not your eyes.

erish this one small mystery;
marvel not that love can be
spite of all his many flaws."
spite? Supposing I said "Because."

ruce, a truce to questioning:
Ve two are friends" tells everything.
t if you must know, this is why:
cause he is he and I am I.

Edward Verrall Lucas [18

2857

A FRIEND

ALL that he came to give,
He gave and went again:
I have seen one man live,
I have seen one man reign,
ith all the graces in his train.

As one of us, he wrought
Things of the common hour:

Whence was the charmed soul brought,

That gave each act such power;

he natural beauty of a flower?

Magnificence and grace,

Excellent courtesy:

A brightness on the face,

Airs of high memory:

hence came all these, to such as he?

Like young Shakespearean kings,

He won the adoring throng:

And as Apollo sings,

He triumphed with a song:

iumphed, and sang, and passed along.

With a light word, he took
The hearts of men in thrall:
And, with a golden look,

Welcomed them, at his call

Giving their love, their strength, their all.

No man less proud than he,

Nor cared for homage less:
Only, he could not be

Far off from happiness:

Nature was bound to his success.

Weary, the cares, the jars,

The lets, of every day:

But the heavens filled with stars,

Chanced he upon the way:

And where he stayed, all joy would stay.

Now when the night draws down,
When the austere stars burn;
Roaming the vast live town,
My thoughts and memories yearn
Toward him, who never will return.

Yet have I seen him live,
And owned my friend, a king:
All that he came to give,

He gave and I, who sing

His praise, bring all I have to bring.

Lionel Johnson (1867–1902)

BILL AND JOE

COME, dear old comrade, you and I Will steal an hour from days gone by, The shining days when life was new, And all was bright with morning dew, The lusty days of long ago,

When you were Bill and I was Joe;

Bill and Joe

ame may flaunt a titled trail, as a cockerel's rainbow tail; ine as brief appendix wear m O'Shanter's luckless mare; y, old friend, remember still am Joe and you are Bill.

e won the great world's envied prize, rand you look in people's eyes, HON. and LL. D.

brave letters, fair to see,fist, old fellow! off they go!are you, Bill? How are you, Joe?

e worn the judge's ermined robe; ve taught your name to half the globe; ve sung mankind a deathless strain; ve made the dead past live again: world may call you what it will, you and I are Joe and Bill.

chaffing young folks stare and say, those old buffers, bent and gray,talk like fellows in their teens!

poor old boys! That's what it means,"shake their heads; they little know throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe!

Bill forgets his hour of pride,
le Joe sits smiling at his side;
Joe, in spite of time's disguise,
Is the old schoolmate in his eyes,—
se calm, stern eyes that melt and fill
oe looks fondly up at Bill.

pensive scholar, what is fame?
ful tongue of leaping flame;
ddy whirlwind's fickle gust,
t lifts a pinch of mortal dust;
w swift years, and who can show
ch dust was Bill and which was Joe?

2859

The weary idol takes his stand,

Holds out his bruised and aching hand,
While gaping thousands come and go,-
How vain it seems, this empty show!
Till all at once his pulses thrill;—
'Tis poor old Joe's "God bless you, Bill!"

And shall we breathe in happier spheres
The names that pleased our mortal ears;
In some sweet lull of harp and song,
For earth-born spirits none too long,
Just whispering of the world below
Where this was Bill and that was Joe?

No matter; while our home is here
No sounding name is half so dear;
When fades at length our lingering day,
Who cares what pompous tombstones say?
Read on the hearts that love us still,

Hic jacet Joe. Hic jacet Bill.

Oliver Wendell Holmes [1809-1894]

"LONG, LONG AGO"

OLD friend of mine, you were dear to my heart,

Long, long ago, long ago.

Little did we think of a time we should part,

Long, long ago, long ago.

Hand clasped in hand through the world we would go.
Down our old untrodden path the wild weeds grow!

Great was the love 'twixt us; bitter was the smart:
Old friend of mine long ago.

Patient watch I kept for you many, many a day,
Long, long ago, long ago;

Waited and wept for you far, far away,

Long, long ago, long ago.

Merry came each May-tide, green leaves would start:

Never came my old friend back to my

heart.

Lonely I went on my weary, weary way,

Old friend of mine long ago.