I’d not met Jack!
A battered wreck, and tempest tossed,
This friend and brother tramp of mine,
With tangled, matted beard of frost—
As rough as seas that he had crossed
Since Auld Lang Syne!
I watched him for an answering glance—
Some sprig of memory, fresh and green,
Of days when through our merry dance
We wove a rough and rare romance