THE OLD INFIRMARY, EDINBURGH, 1873-75

Do you remember

That afternoon — that Sunday afternoon! -

When, as the kirks were ringing in,

And the grey city teemed

With Sabbath feelings and aspects,

LEWIS — our LEWIS then,

Now the whole world's — and you,

Young, yet in shape most like an elder, came,

Laden with BALZACS

( Big, yellow books, quite impudently French ),

The first of many times

To that transformed back-kitchen where I lay

So long, so many centuries -

Or years is it!— ago?

Dear CHARLES, since then

We have been friends, LEWIS and you and I,

( How good it sounds,‘ LEWIS and you and I!’ ):

Such friends, I like to think,

That in us three, LEWIS and me and you,

Is something of that gallant dream

Which old DUMAS — the generous, the humane,

The seven-and-seventy times to be forgiven! -

Dreamed for a blessing to the race,

The immortal Musketeers.

Our ATHOS rests — the wise, the kind,

The liberal and august, his fault atoned,

Rests in the crowded yard

There at the west of Princes Street. We three -

You, I, and LEWIS!— still afoot,

Are still together, and our lives,

In chime so long, may keep

( God bless the thought! )

Unjangled till the end.