Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By CharlesSprague

77 The Brothers

WE are but two—the others sleep

Through death’s untroubled night;

We are but two—O, let us keep

The link that binds us bright.

Heart leaps to heart—the sacred flood

That warms us is the same;

That good old man—his honest blood

Alike we fondly claim.

We in one mother’s arms were locked—

Long be her love repaid;

In the same cradle we were rocked,

Round the same hearth we played.

Our boyish sports were all the same,

Each little joy and woe;—

Let manhood keep alive the flame,

Lit up so long ago.

We are but two—be that the band

To hold us till we die;

Shoulder to shoulder let us stand,

Till side by side we lie.