Which are told to others now!
But tell us, thou bird of the solemn strain!
Can those who have loved forget?
We call—and they answer not again:
Do they love—do they love us yet?
Doth the warrior think of his brother there,
And the father of his child?
And the chief of those that were wont to share
His wandering through the wild?
We call them far through the silent night,