Long Years Have Past.

A poem by Thomas Moore

Long years have past, old friend, since we
First met in life's young day;
And friends long loved by thee and me,
Since then have dropt away;--
But enough remain to cheer us on,
And sweeten, when thus we're met,
The glass we fill to the many gone,
And the few who're left us yet.
Our locks, old friend, now thinly grow,
And some hang white and chill;
While some, like flowers mid Autumn's snow,
Retain youth's color still.
And so, in our hearts, tho' one by one,
Youth's sunny hopes have set,
Thank heaven, not all their light is gone,--
We've some to cheer us yet.

Then here's to thee, old friend, and long
May thou and I thus meet,
To brighten still with wine and song
This short life, ere it fleet.
And still as death comes stealing on,
Let's never, old friend, forget,
Even while we sigh o'er blessings gone,
How many are left us yet.