The friends that were young when I was, Like me show the scourgings of years; The gold has whitened to silver, The roses have drowned beneath Life's tears. In a grave in a nook in yon churchyard Where a fir tree sways, sobs, and swoons Beats a heart that I loved in youth's morning When life was a lilt of love tunes. Woe is me, how the dear vanished years Surge up as I stand here today, Where we stood, you and I, and gazed Towards the dunes slumbering down in the Bay! Like a sacrament seething with sweetness Come the memories of days that are gone, When you, dear, were near and you showed me The power of love - how it won. Now there 'neath that still mossy mound, Where the wild flowers droop and dream, Lies the heart, with my image in it, Like a shell in a silent stream. L 'envoi What shall come with the years is hidden, But this I can safely say, That the charms which raised earth to heaven I have known round St. Peters Bay . Rev. Thomas Gorman Oklahoma City , The Reverend Thomas Gorman Photo courtesy of Robbie Thompson Taken from: The Maple Leaf Magazine, 1925, page 181. 261