TO JOHN NICHOL

Friend of the dead, and friend of all my days

Even since they cast off boyhood, I salute

The song saluting friends whose songs are mute

With full burnt-offerings of clear-spirited praise.

That since our old young years our several ways

Have led through fields diverse of flower and fruit,

Yet no cross wind has once relaxed the root

We set long since beneath the sundawn's rays,

The root of trust whence towered the trusty tree,

Friendship — this only and duly might impel

My song to salutation of your own;

More even than praise of one unseen of me

And loved — the starry spirit of Dobell,

To mine by light and music only known.