“WE buried a loving heart to-day;
We miss his coming over the way,
The toss of his hair, his laughter’s ring;
“The radiant presence gone from earth;
The serious eyes that could shine with mirth,
The luminous brain, the hand of a king;
“So, losing him as we did, I say
Fill up the goblets, and glad and gay
On his lonely road we will drink him cheer:
“Health to the fine old friend we knew!
Peace to his slumbers under the dew!
Hail to his memory kind and dear!
“And for second pledge, fill up to the brim;
(Laugh lightly, what if our eyes be dim!)
Here’s to the first that shall follow him.”
The sun ran riot across the floor;
Pomegranate-blossoms swung by the door;
Blithe robins lit on the ivied sill:
The voice in the gurgle of wine was lost;
Up from the board were the beakers tossed;
Loud clashed their rims with a royal will.
And he, the youngest, that swayed them erst,
Poured yet again, like a man athirst:
“To the first who follows we drink, we three!”
Sudden beside him Another stood,
So sudden, he fell as the sandal-wood
Sinks when the axe is laid to the tree:
But the Shadow lifted his cup instead
With the old quick smile, and the toss of the head:
“Franz! thou art the first to follow!” he said.