1

Now that we're almost settled in our house

I'll name the friends that cannot sup with us

Beside a fire of turf in the ancient tower,

And having talked to some late hour

Climb up the narrow winding stair to bed:

Discoverers of forgotten truth

Or mere companions of my youth,

All, all are in my thoughts to-night, being dead.

[5]

2

Always we'd have the new friend meet the old,

And we are hurt if either friend seem cold,

And there is salt to lengthen out the smart

In the affections of our heart,

And quarrels are blown up upon that head;

But not a friend that I would bring

This night can set us quarrelling,

For all that come into my mind are dead.

3

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