In Remembrance

[W. L. C.]      Sit closer, friends, around the board!         Death grants us yet a little time.      Now let the cheering cup be poured,         And welcome song and jest and rhyme.      Enjoy the gifts that fortune sends.                 Sit closer, friends!      And yet, we pause. With trembling lip         We strive the fitting phrase to make;      Remembering our fellowship,         Lamenting Destiny's mistake.      We marvel much when Fate offends,                 And claims our friends.      Companion of our nights of mirth,         Where all were merry who were wise;      Does Death quite understand your worth,         And know the value of his prize?      I doubt me if he comprehends -                 He knows no friends.      And in that realm is there no joy         Of comrades and the jocund sense?      Can Death so utterly destroy -         For gladness grant no recompense?      And can it be that laughter ends                 With absent friends?      Oh, scholars whom we wisest call,         Who solve great questions at your ease,      We ask the simplest of them all,         And yet you cannot answer these!      And is it thus your knowledge ends,                 To comfort friends?      Dear Omar! should You chance to meet         Our Brother Somewhere in the Gloom,      Pray give to Him a Message sweet,         From Brothers in the Tavern Room.      He will not ask who 'tis that sends,                 For We were Friends.      Again a parting sail we see;         Another boat has left the shore.      A kinder soul on board has she         Than ever left the land before.      And as her outward course she bends,                 Sit closer, friends!