In sorrow's lonely hour
When lost and saddened glances show,
Tears with a mist of dew
Blow like ashes scattered
On faces of those he knew.
And when this hour of death
Relived, remembered of despair,
Cast a prayer and swear
You never saw a better man.
For still our hours draw near, as his,
Each step perhaps the last
To share with him, the happiness of years,
That would be a thing.
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