n8 MORE POT-POURRI 



If I had known, O loyal heart, 

 When, hand to hand, we said ' Farewell, ' 



How for all times our paths would part, 

 What shadow o'er our friendship fell, 



I should have clasped your hand so close 

 In the warm pressure of my own 



That memory still might keep its grasp 

 If I had known. 



If I had known when far and wide 

 We loitered through the summer land, 



What presence wandered by our side, 

 And o'er you stretched its awful hand, 



I should have hushed my careless speech 

 To listen well to every tone 



That from your lips fell low and sweet 

 If I had known. 



If I had known when your kind eyes 

 Met mine in parting, true and sad 



Eyes gravely tender, gently wise, 

 And earnest rather more than glad 



How soon the lids would lie above, 

 As cold and white as sculptured stone, 



I should have treasured every glance 

 If I had known. 



If I had known that, until Death 



Shall with his fingers touch my brow, 

 And still the quickening of the breath 



That stirs with life's full meaning now, 

 So long my feet must tread the way 



Of our accustomed paths alone, 

 I should have prized your presence more 

 If I had known. 



CHRISTIAN REED ('Weekly Sun,' 1897). 



Oh ! the anguish of that thought that we can never 

 atone to our dead for the stinted affection we gave them, 

 for the light answers we returned to their plaints or 

 their pleadings, for the little reverence we showed to 

 that sacred human soul that lived so close to us and was 

 the divinest thing God had given us to know. 



