'Tis said but a name is friendship,
Soulless, and shallow, and vain;
That the human heart ne'er beats in response,
Or echoes sweet sympathy's strain.

But to-day in 'memory's mirror'
Came a dear and honored one,
Whom in days gone by had lived and had loved,
Ere her heavenly goal was won.

Her countenance beamed as of yore,
With radiant smiles of love,
And I felt that the friendship she lavished me here,
Had ripened in heaven above.

I felt that her voice so winsome,
Attuned to holier rhymes,
Would in soft cadence tell of friendship's truth,
Like harp of a thousand strings.

Rise up and call her blest!
Ye children of her love,
For a friendlier hand or a kindlier heart.
Ne'er entered the mansions above.