To say, if a wish or a vain regret
Could live in Elysian bowers,
’Twould be for the friends they can ne’er forget,
The beloved of their youthful hours.
To whisper the dear deserted band,
Who smiled on their tarriance here,
That a faithful guard in the dreamless land
Are the friends they have loved so dear.
’Tis true, in the silent night you call,
And they answer you not again;