Friends. . . Old Friends

Friends . . . old friends . . .     One sees how it ends.     A woman looks     Or a man tells lies,     And the pleasant brooks     And the quiet skies,     Ruined with brawling     And caterwauling,     Enchant no more     As they did before.     And so it ends     With friends.     Friends . . . old friends . . .     And what if it ends?     Shall we dare to shirk     What we live to learn?     It has done its work,     It has served its turn;     And, forgive and forget     Or hanker and fret,     We can be no more     As we were before.     When it ends, it ends     With friends.     Friends . . . old friends . . .     So it breaks, so it ends.     There let it rest!     It has fought and won,     And is still the best     That either has done.     Each as he stands     The work of its hands,     Which shall be more     As he was before? . . .     What is it ends     With friends?