To a Lost Comrade by Olive Tilford Dargan — Read

We found the spring at eager noon, / And from one cup we drank; / Then on until the forest croon / In twilight tangle sank;

The night was ours, the stars, the dawn; / The manna crust, bird-shared; / And never failed our magic shoon, / Whatever way we fared.

If caged at last, ceased not the flow / Of sky-gleam through the bars; / And where were wounds I only know / Tear-kisses hid the scars.

And when, as round the world death-free / We wind-embodied roam, / I hear the gale that once was thee / Cry "Hollo! " I will come.