MY friend, adown Life’s valley, hand in hand,
With grateful change of grave and merry speech
Or song, our hearts unlocking each to each,
We’ll journey onward to the silent land;
And when stern Death shall loose that loving band,
Taking in his cold hand a hand of ours,
The one shall strew the other’s grave with flowers,
Nor shall his heart a moment be unmanned.
My friend and brother! if thou goest frist,
Wilt thou no more re-visit me below?
Yea, when my heart seems happy, causelessly,
And swells, not dreaming why, as it would burs
With joy unspeakable— my soul shall know
That thou, unseen, art bending over me.
James Rusell Lowell
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