My oracles; my wings in high pursuit.
Oh, I remember, and will ne’er forget
Our meeting spots, our chosen sacred hours;
Our burning words that utter’d all the soul;
Our faces beaming with unearthly love;
Sorrow with sorrow sighing, hope with hope
Exulting, heart embracing heart entire.
—R. Pollok.
Gold can be tried by fire and the good-will of friends by time is tested.