"Where are our friends of yesterday,"
He asked in accents low;
"They're gone and vanished from our sight,
Where are they, do you know?"
"Some of them lived their span of years,
Their life's course was well run,
While others seemed to disappear
Leaving their work half done."
"These friends" I answered "That we lament,
Who trod the road we tread,
They awaits for us around the bend
Of the road that lies ahead."
"And all our friends who disappeared
Like passing ships at night,
Are they now watching us each day,
Or, are we hid from sight?"
"And can they see us when we fall
Beside life's rugged road,
And beckons us to 'Carry on'
When weary with our load?"
"I do not know, I cannot tell,
But his I will contend,
Our friends are waiting for us now,
And just around the bend."
"When we have finished our last mile,
And reached our journey's end,
It's then we'll meet the friends that wait
For us around the bend."
April, 1944
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