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1850–1919

COMRADES

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I and my Soul are alone to-day, All in the shining weather; We were sick of the world, and put it away, So we could rejoice together.

Our host, the Sun, in the blue, blue sky Is mixing a rare, sweet wine, In the burnished gold of this cup on high, For me, and this Soul of mine.

We find it a safe and royal drink, And a cure for every pain; It helps us to love, and helps us to think, And strengthens body and brain.

And sitting here, with my Soul alone, Where the yellow sun-rays fall, Of all the friends I have ever known I find it the BEST of all.

We rarely meet when the world is near, For the World hath a pleasing art And brings me so much that is bright and dear That my Soul it keepeth apart.

But when I grow weary of mirth and glee, Of glitter, glow, and splendour, Like a tried old friend it comes to me, With a smile that is sad and tender.

And we walk together as two friends may, And laugh and drink God's wine. Oh, a royal comrade any day I find this Soul of mine.

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COMRADES · Ella Wheeler Wilcox · Poetry Cove