Men in the rough–on the trails all new-broken–
Those are the friends we remember with tears;
Few are the words that such comrades have spoken–
Deeds are their tributes that last through the years.
Men in the rough–sons of prairie and mountain–
Children of nature, warm-hearted, clear eyed;
Friendship with them is a never-sealed fountain;
Strangers are they to the altars of pride.
Men in the rough–curt of speech to their fellows–
Ready in everything, save to deceive;
Theirs are the friendships that time only mellows,
And death cannot sever the bonds that they weave.
Arthur Chapman 1916