  If every friend who meditates In soft, unspoken thought With winning courtesy and tact The doing of a kindly act To cheer some lonely lot, Were like the friend of whom I dream, Then hardship but a myth would seem. If sympathy were always thus Oblivious of space, And, like the tendrils of the vine, Could just as lovingly incline To one in distant place, 'Twould draw the world together so Might none the name of stranger know. My ardent spirit thrills Could, like the skylark's ecstasy, Be vocal in sweet melody, Beyond dividing hills In octaves of the atmosphere Were music wafted to his ear. If every friendship were like one, So helpful and so true, To other hearts as sad as mine 'Twould bring the joy so near divine, And hope revive anew; So life's dull path would it illume, And radiate beyond the tomb. |
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