William Ellery Channing (1818–1901)

THE DAY has past, I never may return;

Twelve circling years have run since first I came,

And kindled the pure truth of Friendship’s flame,

Alone remain these ashes in the urn;

Vainly for light the taper may I turn,

Thy hand is closed, as for these years, the same,

And in the substance nought is but the name,

No more a hope, no more a ray to burn.

But once more in the pauses of thy joy,

Remember him who sought thee in his youth,

And with the old reliance of the boy,

Asked for thy Treasures in the guise of truth;

The air is thick with sighs,—the shaded sun

Shows on the Hill-side, that the day is done.