TIME keeps no measure when true friends are parted,—
No record day by day;
The sands move not for those who, loyal-hearted,
Friendship’s firm laws obey.
It is not well to note with dull precision
The flight of days or years;
Memory depends not on a proof by vision,
And has no foolish fears.
The migrant birds when they are Southward flying
Have no regrets; they go
Full of the knowledge born of faith undying,
That they again shall know
The homes and nests which they have left behind them
Unmarred by change the while;
The Southern lands they seek will but remind them
Of the North’s summer smile.
And so I know that you will come to meet me
In the old, well-loved way;
That, though a year go by, you still will greet me
As kindly as to-day.