My Friend

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"He is my friend," I said,--
  "Be patient!"  Overhead
  The skies were drear and dim;
  And lo! the thought of him
  Smited on my heart--and then
  The sun shone out again!

  "He is my friend!"  The words
  Brought summer and the birds;
  And all my winter-time
  Thawed into running rhyme
  And rippled into song,
  Warm, tender, brave, and strong.

  And so it sings to-day.--
  So may it sing alway!
  Though waving grasses grow
  Between, and lilies blow
  Their trills of perfume clear
  As laughter to the ear,
  Let each mute measure end
  With "Still he is thy friend."

© James Whitcomb Riley