by
Henson Towne
Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end.
And before I knew it a year is gone,
And I never see my old friend's face;
For life is a swift and terrible race.
He knows I like him just as well
As in the days when I rang his bell
And he rang mine. We were younger then -
And now we are busy, tired men -
Tired with playing a foolish game;
Tired with trying to make a name.
"Tomorrow," I say, "I will call on Jim,
"Just to show that I'm thinking of him."
But tomorrow comes - and tomorrow goes;
And the distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner! - yet miles away . . .
"Here's a telegram, sir." "Jim died today."
And that's what we get - and deserve in the end -
Around the corner, a vanished friend.