If every friend who meditates
In soft, unspoken thought
With winning courtesy and tact
The doing of a kindly act
To cheer some lonely lot,
Were like the friend of whom I dream,
Then hardship but a myth would seem.
If sympathy were always thus
Oblivious of space,
And, like the tendrils of the vine,
Could just as lovingly incline
To one in distant place,
'Twould draw the world together so
Might none the name of stranger know.
If every throb responsive that
My ardent spirit thrills
Could, like the skylark's ecstasy,
Be vocal in sweet melody,
Beyond dividing hills
In octaves of the atmosphere
Were music wafted to his ear.
If every friendship were like one,
So helpful and so true,
To other hearts as sad as mine
'Twould bring the joy so near divine,
And hope revive anew;
So life's dull path would it illume,
And radiate beyond the tomb.
