We said no word. Yet, as such comrades would,
You understood.
Such friendship is not touched by Death’s disaster,
But stands the faster;
And all the shocks and trials of time cannot
Shake it one jot.
Beside the fire at night some far December,
We shall remember
And tell men, unbegotten as yet, the story
Of your sad glory—
Of your plain strength, your truth of heart, your splendid
Coolness, all ended!
All ended, ... yet the aching hearts of lovers
Joy overcovers,
Glad in their sorrow; hoping that if they must
Come to the dust,
An ending such as yours may be their portion,
And great good fortune—
That if we may not live to serve in peace
England, watching increase—