After so long an absence
at last we meet again
Does the meeting give us pleasure
or does it give us pain?
The tree of life has been shaken
and but few of us linger now
Like the prophets two or three berries
in the top of the uppermost bough
We cordially greet each other
in the old familiar tone;
and we think, though we do not say it,
How old and gray he is grown.
We speak of a Merry Christmas,
and many a happy New Year;
But each is in his heart is thinking
of those that are not here.
We speak of friends and their fortunes,
and of what they did and said,
Til the dead alone seem living
and the living alone seem dead.
And at last we hardly distinguish
between the ghosts and the guests;
And a mist and shadow of sadness
steals over our merriest jests.
After so long an absence
at last we meet again
Does the meeting give us pleasure
or does it give us pain?
Copyright: Anthony Leonard Ostheimer (ALO), 28 February 1972