Oft in the stilly night by Thomas Moore.

Part 2 of 2.

When

I remember all
The friends so linked together
I’ve seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather,
I feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed.
Thus in the stilly night,
Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.