Friends . . . old friends . . .
One sees how it ends.
A woman looks Or a man tells lies, And the pleasant brooks And the quiet skies, Ruined with brawling And caterwauling, Enchant no more As they did before.
And so it ends With friends.
Friends . . . old friends . . .
And what if it ends?
Shall we dare to shirk What we live to learn?
It has done its work, It has served its turn;
And, forgive and forget Or hanker and fret, We can be no more As we were before.
When it ends, it ends With friends.
Friends . . . old friends . . .
So it breaks, so it ends.
There let it rest!
It has fought and won, And is still the best That either has done.
Each as he stands The work of its hands, Which shall be more As he was before? . . .
What is it ends With friends?
