If stores of dry and learnèd lore we gain, We keep them in the memory of the brain; Names, things, and facts,—whate’er we knowledge call,— There is the common ledger for them all; And images on this cold surface traced Make slight impression, and are soon effaced. But we ’ve a page, more glowing and more bright, On which our friendship and our love to write; That these may never from the soul depart, We trust them to the memory of the heart. There is no dimming, no effacement there; Each new pulsation keeps the record clear; Warm, golden letters all the tablet fill, Nor lose their lustre till the heart stands still.
Collection:
Sub Title:
Poems of Friendship