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Y dear, you and I
 * Have floated down life’s stream together,

And kept unharmed our friendship’s tie Through every change of Fortune’s sky,
 * Her pleasant and her rainy weather.

Full sixty times since first we met, Our birthday suns have risen and set, And time has worn the baldness now Of Julius Cæsar on your brow; Your brow, like his, a field of thought, With broad deep furrows spirit-wrought,