Yet can love not choose but remember, hearts but ache,
Eyes but darken, only for one vain thought's poor sake,
⁠For the thought that by this hearth's now lonely side
⁠Two fast friends, on the day he died,
⁠Looked once more for his hand to take.

Let thy soul forgive them, and pardon heal the sin,
Though their hearts be heavy to think what then had been,
⁠The delight that never while they live may be—
⁠Love's communion of speech with thee,
⁠Soul and speech with the soul therein.

O my friend, O brother, a glory veiled and marred!
Never love made moan for a life more evil-starred.
⁠Was it envy, chance, or chance-compelling fate,
⁠Whence thy spirit was bruised so late,
⁠Bowed so heavily, bound so hard?