I COUNT that friendship little worth Which has not many things untold, Great longings that no words can hold, And passion-secrets waiting birth. Along the slender wires of speech Some message from the heart is sent; But who can tell the whole that's meant? Our dearest thoughts are out of reach. I have not seen thee, though mine eyes Hold now the image of thy face; In vain, through form, I strive to trace The soul I love: that deeper lies. A thousand accidents control Our meeting here. Clasp hand in hand, And swear to meet me in that land Where friends hold converse soul to soul. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A THESAURUS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE UNKNOWN WAY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE SCHOOL FOR SATIRE by SOPHIA (RAYMOND) BURRELL ON MOORE'S LAST OPERATIC FARCE, OR FARCICAL OPERA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON PLAINS BORN by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. WHEN I IN PRAISE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES |