Lost Another One
Unhappy year! that holds the hand of Death
And robs us all of friends whom we hold dear,
I pray the Spring should give you quickened breath
And wash away this mist of somber fear.
I know no words to slow the march of time.
No plea can stay the seasons or the knife.
I know too well the feebleness of rhyme
In capturing the beauty of a life.
And yet I speak, for silence will not bide
The loss of Great Men, whom we miss so well.
From loss, no living man can truly hide
And so we choose these stories still to tell:
Our friends we lose, but mem'ries will we hold
Far warmer than a fire against the cold.