How oft the silent sound of martins heard
Over the green leaved trees as day departs
Will bring the memory of an annual day.
Did we perhaps embark without a word
Or just imagine the beating of hearts
In the fine room set apart for the fray?
Meeting with others, for a common cause
Inside the one firm now long departed,
Such was the deep tremor of the chords which
Spoke of tax, of people and of purpose
That we all expressed with uplifted head
Hopes far better than simply to enrich.
E’en so now, though our paths are far away,
Each memory rings as if but yesterday.