When comrades wander forth through time and space,
To chase the fruit of study, toil, or chance,
Each tale they bear doth gild their weary face,
And bids our hearts to join their glad expanse.

The scholar’s word, by candlelight conceived,
Returns as treasure, richer than pure gold;
The traveler’s song, in distant lands achieved,
Breathes life anew in stories brave and bold.
Yet truest bond is friendship’s gentle thread,
Which time may stretch but never rend in twain;
Its voice abides when fleeting hours are fled,
And lifts us up through joy as well as pain.
So joy is sown in every voice we hear,
For each farewell returns as something dear.