Through the Collegiate gates, archway, and porch
We passed in conversation, bent to raise
The Signal: ’twas the day of little things.
That friend with whom I thus in council walked,
Associate of my earlier years, long since
Is in his peaceful grave; nor did he live
To see our sorrows. There was that in him
Wherein one might cast anchor. Often wont
To talk in paradox, it was his mood
Of playfulness, as one that inly smiled