  And, last and saddest of all, there is the bell that we did not ring. We half thought of it; we heard afterwards how welcome a call would have been; but the contemplated visit was not paid. Around the corner I have a friend, In the great city that has no end. Yet days go by and weeks rush on, And before I know it a year is gone; And I never see my old friend's face, For life is a swift and terrible race. He knows I love him just as well As in the days when I rang his bell And he rang mine. We were younger then, And now we are busy, tired men— Tired with playing a foolish game, Tired with trying to make a name. 'To-morrow,' I say, 'I will call on Jim, Just to show that I'm thinking of him.' But to-morrow comes and to-morrow goes, And the distance between us grows and grows, Around the corner—yet miles away.... 'Here's a telegram, sir.' 'Jim died to-day!' And that's what we get and deserve in the end— Around the corner a vanished friend. I really intended to have pressed the button at Jim's door; but the good intentions did not ring the bell; and I am left to nurse my lifelong remorse. I really intended to have answered the door when a Visitor Divine stood gently knocking there; but the good intention did not let Him in; He turned sadly and wearily away; and I am left to my shame and my everlasting regret.
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