These are different days
Where the individual soul
Is left alone to wither and decay.

Once there were golden friendships
That weathered every storm
And violent tempest,
There was a spiritual bond
Impossible to break.

And if a friend departed for God,
One would find his child and weep
Saying, “The son of my friend! ”

These are different days,
I light candles at dusk
And entertain lonely spirits.

Uriah Hamilton

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/these-are-different-days/