Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/239

Rh The deepest hurt that e'er the present gave?

Friend! Ever wise consoler! We are brave

Because of thee! Trusting thy might to save,

We journey onward toward an unknown land,

And close, and closer still, we clasp thy hand,—

Nor will be parted from thee at the grave.