And thou art here, whilst he lies in his shroud!
And here am I, his friend and thine, old pipe!
And he has often sat my chair beside,
As he was wont to sit in living type,
Of many companies the flower and pride,—
Sat by my side, and talked to me the while,
Invisible to every eye save mine,
And smiled upon me as he used to smile
When we three sat o'er our good cups of wine.
Ah, happy days, when the old Chapel House,