If you should find, by some note with strange address,
That I could no longer “speak” with you again,
Not by a letter or the evening press.
Simply know I have a journey to begin,
Due to the avenue and crowd held taunt
In willing chains beyond all seeming sense.

You should not cry, my Dear, no anxious thought,
But know it is a path without offense.
You should just muse your self with morning’s light
And take pure joy within night’s offering.
For I will soon as not be in your sight,
To commune with you on this one sure thing,
I am and I will ever be your friend,
Do not let, this short twilight, part us then.