To an Old Mate

Old Mate! In the gusty old weather,When our hopes and our troubles were new,In the years spent in wearing out leather,I found you unselfish and true --I have gathered these verses togetherFor the sake of our friendship and you.

You may think for awhile, and with reason,Though still with a kindly regret,That I've left it full late in the seasonTo prove I remember you yet;But you'll never judge me by their treasonWho profit by friends -- and forget.

I remember, Old Man, I remember --The tracks that we followed are clear --The jovial last nights of December,The solemn first days of the year,Long tramps through the clearings and timber,Short partings on platform and pier.

I can still feel the spirit that bore us,And often the old stars will shine --I remember the last spree in chorusFor the sake of that other Lang Syne,When the tracks lay divided before us,Your path through the future and mine.

Through the frost-wind that cut like whip-lashes,Through the ever-blind haze of the drought --And in fancy at times by the flashesOf light in the darkness of doubt --I have followed the tent poles and ashesOf camps that we moved further out.

You will find in these pages a trace ofThat side of our past which was bright,And recognise sometimes the face ofA friend who has dropped out of sight --I send them along in the place ofThe letters I promised to write.