If anybody’s friend be dead
It’s sharpest of the theme
The thinking how they walked alive —
At such and such a time —
Their costume, of a Sunday,
Some manner of the Hair —
A prank nobody knew but them
Lost, in the Sepulchre —
How warm, they were, on such a day,
You almost feel the date —
So short way off it seems —
And now — they’re Centuries from that —
How pleased they were, at what you said —
You try to touch the smile
And dip your fingers in the frost —
When was it — Can you tell —
You asked the Company to tea —
Acquaintance — just a few —
And chatted close with this Grand Thing
That don’t remember you —
Past Bows, and Invitations —
Past Interview, and Vow —
Past what Ourself can estimate —
That — makes the Quick of Woe!
