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M. W. B.

They tell me thou art laid to rest,
Companion of my happiest years!
That thou hast joined the loved and blest,
Whose early graves are wet with tears,—
That I shall never hear again
The voice that charmed my boyhood's ear,
Nor meet among the haunts of men
Thy honest grasp of love sincere.

Friend of my youth ! my buried friend!
Thy step was gayest in the ring,—
My thoughts far back through childhood wend,
And can I now thy requiem sing?