Here on a hill of the occident stand we
    shoulder to shoulder,
  Comrades tried and true through a
    mighty swath of the years!
Spring harps glad laughter through us, and
    ministrant rains of the autumn
  Sing us again the songs of ancient dolor
    and tears.

The glory of sunrise smites on our fair,
    free brows uplifted
  When the silver-? day steps over
    the twilight's bars;
At evening we look down into valleys
    hearted with sunset,
  And we whisper old lore together un-
    der the smoldering stars.

Crescent moons of the summer gleam
    through our swaying branches,
  Knee-deep in fern we stand while the
    days of the sun-time go;
And the winds of winter love us -- the keen,
    gay winds of the winter,
  Coming to our gray arms from over the
    plains of snow.

Down in the valleys beneath us is wooing
    and winning and wedding,
  Down in the long, dim valleys earth chil-
    dren wail and weep;
But here on these free hills we grow and
    are strong and flourish.
  Comrades shoulder to shoulder our watch
    of the years to keep.

We were alone what time you said
  Your last farewell to me,
Ere yet you joined the happy dead
  In their fair company.

God grant our meeting be like this
  In heaven's loneliest ring,
Lest angels envy us the bliss
  Of that first welcoming!