Here you will find the Poem The Lost Friend of poet Amy Levy
The people take the thing of course, They marvel not to see This strange, unnatural divorce Betwixt delight and me. I know the face of sorrow, and I know Her voice with all its varied cadences; Which way she turns and treads; how at her ease Things fit her dreary largess to bestow. Where sorrow long abides, some be that grow To hold her dear, but I am not of these; Joy is my friend, not sorrow; by strange seas, In some far land we wandered, long ago. O faith, long tried, that knows no faltering! O vanished treasure of her hands and face!-- Beloved--to whose memory I cling, Unmoved within my heart she holds her place. And never shall I hail that other "friend," Who yet shall dog my footsteps to the end.