Two years—two years! And is it then so long
Since thou wert reft away?
Yet still thy memory lingers fresh and strong;
It seems but yesterday
That though wast here, ere that dark time befell,
A happy friend ’mid friends that loved thee well.
Two years—two years! And still I weep whene’er
Thine image I recall;
Swift hurrying feet, sharp bark, long silken hair,
And, dearest far of all,
Thy gentle, loving eyes, that looked no less
Than human sympathy and tenderness.
Two years—two years! And still, as time flies fast,
Must year to year succeed.
They cannot change the fixed, abiding Past;
They cannot shake my creed,
That, chance what may in earth or heaven above,
There never dies the least small spark of Love.
Henry S. Salt
The Humanitarian, December 1918, p. 159