Around the corner, a vanished friend
Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end;
Yet days go by, and weeks rush on,
And before I know it a year is gone,
And I never see my old friend's face,
For life is a swift and terrible race.
He knows I like him just as well
As in the days when I rang his bell
And he rang mine. We were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men:
Tired with playing a foolish game,
Tired with trying to make a name.
"Tomorrow," I say, "I will call on Jim,
Just to show I am thinking of him."
But tomorrow comes - and tomorrow goes,
And the distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner! - yet miles away . .
"Here's the telegram, Sir. . .
'Jim died today'."
And that's what we get, and deserve in the end:
Around the corner, a vanished friend.
- by Charles Hanson Towne
Untitled - e. e. cummings
"think of it: not so long ago
this was a village"
"yes; i know"
"of human beings who prayed and sang,
or am i wrong?"
"no, you're not wrong"
"and worked like hell six days out of seven"
"to die as they lived: in the hope of heaven"
"didn't two roads meet here?"
"they did;
and over yonder a schoolhouse stood"
"do i remember a girl with blue-
sky eyes and sun-yellow hair?"
"do you?"
"absolutely"
"that's very odd,
for i've never forgotten one frecklefaced lad'
"what could have happened to her and him?"
"maybe they walked and called it a dream"
"in this dream were there green and gold
meadows?"
"through which a lazy brook strolled"
"wonder if clover still smells that way;
up in the mow"
"full of newmown hay"
"and the shadows and sounds and silences"
"Yes, a barn could be a magical place"
"nothing's the same, is it?"
"something still
remains, my friend, and always will"
"namely?"
"if any woman knows,
one man in a million ought to guess"
"what of the dreams that never die?"
"turn to your left at the end of the sky"
"where are the girls whose breasts begin?"
"under the boys who fish with a pin"
- e. e. cummings
Do not stand at my grave and weep - Mary Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
