As bright within my memory's fair book
As when we met in '43,
And smiled about that fallen prayer-book.
Ah well, the moments swiftly stream
Unheeded through the upturned hour-glass;
I've lived my life, and dreamed my dream,
And quaffed the sweet, as now the sour glass.
But old and spent my mind strays back
To pleasant paths fresh-strewn with roses,
And I would see my old friend JACK