  “We buried a loving heart to-day; We miss his coming over the way, The toss of his hair, his laughter’s ring; “The radiant presence gone from earth; The serious eyes that could shine with mirth, The luminous brain, the hand of a king; “So, losing him as we did, I say Fill up the goblets, and glad and gay On his lonely road we will drink him cheer: “Health to the fine old friend we knew! Peace to his slumbers under the dew! “And for second pledge, fill up to the brim; (Laugh lightly, what if our eyes be dim!) Here’s to the first that shall follow him.” The sun ran riot across the floor; Pomegranate-blossoms swung by the door; Blithe robins lit on the ivied sill: The voice in the gurgle of wine was lost; Up from the board were the beakers tossed; Loud clashed their rims with a royal will. And he, the youngest, that swayed them erst, Poured yet again, like a man athirst: “To the first who follows we drink, we three!” Sudden beside him Another stood, So sudden, he fell as the sandal-wood Sinks when the axe is laid to the tree: But the Shadow lifted his cup instead With the old quick smile, and the toss of the head: “Franz! thou art the first to follow!” he said. |
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