These are different days
Where the individual soul
Is left alone to wither and decay.
Once there were golden friendships
That weathered every storm
And violent tempest,
There was a spiritual bond
Impossible to break.
And if a friend departed for God,
One would find his child and weep
Saying, “The son of my friend! ”
These are different days,
I light candles at dusk
And entertain lonely spirits.
Uriah Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/these-are-different-days/
