Absent or present, still to thee,
My friend, what magic spells belong!
As all can tell, who share, like me,
In turn thy converse and thy song.
 
But when the dreaded hour shall come
By Friendship ever deem’d too nigh,
And 'MEMORY’ o’er her Druid’s tomb
Shall weep that aught of thee can die,
 
How fondly will she then repay
Thy homage offer’d at her shrine, to
And blend, while ages roll away,
Her name immortally with thine!
 
 
April 19, 1812

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