To My Friends.

From: Poems (1844)
Author: Christopher Pearse Cranch
Published: Carey and Hart 1844 Philadelphia



To all my absent friends, who scattered wide,
Where’er, a pilgrim, I have chanced to stray,
May sometimes in the silent eventide
Cherish a thought of him who, far away,
Thus weaves to-night his heart’s rude sonnet-lay,
I send with memory thrilling with the past,
My thoughts and wishes. It may be that they
Deem me forgetful of the times when last
I held communion with them. Let them not
Think that the golden chain shall e’er grow dim;
It may be that some new and distant spot
Shall with the spells of home encircle him;
Still I may think that should they ever see
This offering, they will know how dear they are to me.

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