Oliver Wendell Holmes

“ Each hour of the past lends its tribute to this,
Till it blooms like a bower in the Garden of Bliss;
The thorn and the thistle may grow as they will,
Where Friendship unfolds there is Paradise still. ”

“ One circle, scarce broken, these waiting below,
Those walking the shores where the asphodels blow!
Not life shall enlarge it, nor death shall divide,—
No brother new-born finds his place at my side ”