We’ve
always a friend in the future—
In the
years that stretch on ahead.
There’s
always a toast for tomorrow
With
its lightsome pledge
Of
life, laughter and love
And
paths girt with roses red.
But
here’s to what lies behind us as well—
Its
hell-swept wastes and its sunlit lands.
A
fearsome thing is the thread of fate—
But of
silken mesh
And
kindly, golden store
To the
soul who understands.
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