Through the ivory gate

I had a dream last night

Dream of a friend that is dead

He came with dawn's first light

And stood beside my bed:

And as he there did stand,

With gesture fine and fair,

He passed a wan white hand

Over my tumbled hair,

Saying: "No friendship dieth

With death of any day,

No true friendship lieth

Cold with lifeless clay.

"Though our boyhood's playtime,

Be gone with summer's breath,

No friendship fades with Maytime

No friendship dies with death."

Then answer had I made

But that the rapture deep

Did hold me, half afraid

To mar that rose of sleep

So with closed eyes I lay,

Lord of the vision fair;

And when 'twas perfect day

Only the day was there.