The ferry

Many a year is in its grave,

Since I crossed this restless wave;

And the evening, fair as ever,

Shines on ruin, rock, and river.

Then, in this same boat, beside,

Sat two comrades old and tried;

One with all a father's truth,

One with all the fire of youth.

One on earth in silence wrought,

And his grave in silence sought;

But the younger, brighter form

Passed in battle and in storm!

So, whene'er I turn my eye

Back upon the days gone by,

Saddening thoughts of friends come o'er me, --

Friends, who closed their course before me.

Yet what binds us, friend to friend,

But that soul with soul can blend?

Soul-like were those hours of yore;

Let us walk in soul once more!

Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee;

Take, -- I give it willingly;

For, invisibly to thee,

Spirits twain have crossed with me!