ALL HERE

IT is not what we say or sing,

That keeps our charm so long unbroken,

Though every lightest leaf we bring

May touch the heart as friendship's token;

Not what we sing or what we say

Can make us dearer to each other;

We love the singer and his lay,

But love as well the silent brother.

Yet bring whate'er your garden grows,

Thrice welcome to our smiles and praises;

Thanks for the myrtle and the rose,

Thanks for the marigolds and daisies;

One flower erelong we all shall claim,

Alas! unloved of Amaryllis —

Nature's last blossom-need I name

The wreath of threescore's silver lilies?

How many, brothers, meet to-night

Around our boyhood's covered embers?

Go read the treasured names aright

The old triennial list remembers;

Though twenty wear the starry sign

That tells a life has broke its tether,

The fifty-eight of‘ twenty-nine —

God bless THE Boys!— are all together!

These come with joyous look and word,

With friendly grasp and cheerful greeting,—

Those smile unseen, and move unheard,

The angel guests of every meeting;

They cast no shadow in the flame

That flushes from the gilded lustre,

But count us — we are still the same;

One earthly band, one heavenly cluster!

Love dies not when he bows his head

To pass beyond the narrow portals,—

The light these glowing moments shed

Wakes from their sleep our lost immortals;

They come as in their joyous prime,

Before their morning days were numbered,—

Death stays the envious hand of Time,—

The eyes have not grown dim that slumbered!

The paths that loving souls have trod

Arch o'er the dust where worldlings grovel

High as the zenith o'er the sod,—

The cross above the sexton's shovel!

We rise beyond the realms of day;

They seem to stoop from spheres of glory

With us one happy hour to stray,

While youth comes back in song and story.

Ah! ours is friendship true as steel

That war has tried in edge and temper;

It writes upon its sacred seal

The priest's ubique — omnes — semper!

It lends the sky a fairer sun

That cheers our lives with rays as steady

As if our footsteps had begun

To print the golden streets already!

The tangling years have clinched its knot

Too fast for mortal strength to sunder;

The lightning bolts of noon are shot;

No fear of evening's idle thunder!

Too late! too late!— no graceless hand

Shall stretch its cords in vain endeavor

To rive the close encircling band

That made and keeps us one forever!