"Gone to his exceeding great reward," The friend of rich and poor alike; And there'll rest not beneath the sward More shining mark that death could strike. ...
When the nights are gittin' chilly and the leaves begin to fade, An' the mercury's down to thirty, 'stead o' ninety in the shade, There's a happy kind o' feelin' takes possession o' the soul--...
O, where are the friends that in youth we once knew, Whose smiles were like sunshine, whose hearts were so true? Alas! they are lost in the darkness and gloom...
Full well I know that wishing never yet has brought The things that seem to us would satisfy the heart, And that anticipated pleasure, when at last 'tis caught,...