- DEAR friend, I often pass the places where
- WE held our happy trysts of olden time,
- Chatting, and reading, and reciting rhyme,
- And magic Memory recalls you there;
- I see you sitting in the accustomed chair—
- A favorite volume open on your knee,
- Read with a knitted brow;—when skies are fair,
- As was your wont, you're roving round with me
- The busy streets—I talk to you again
- Of Faith, and Hope, and Love, and Poesy,
- And all the little ways of little men,
- And question you, and waiting for reply,
- Start at the solitude and find you flown—
- And then, with saddened heart, pursue my walk alone.
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