Poems (Sharpless)/Last Friends

by Frances M. Sharpless

LAST FRIENDS

Oh Love! oh Faith! oh Hope!
   God's angels three!
Now that my feet descend life's westering slope,
   Abide with me.

Gay Mirth hath flown; Youth turns on me her back;
   My friends grow few,
Yet shall my failing spirit little lack
   While ye are true.

Gray clouds are sombre in the solemn sky,
   The path is straight
Down to the sea whose dark waves I descry;
   Nor may I wait.

Yet naught shall daunt me, if, still hand in hand,
   Ye walk with me;
For ye, of all companions in life's land,
   May cross that sea.