Old Friends

I stumbled across a memory of a favorite poem of mine. I fell in love with this poem years and years ago, and throughout my life, I have found it's words to be truer and truer as the years pass. 

Old Friends

There are no friends like old friends
and none so good and true,
We greet them when we meet them
as roses greet the dew.
No other friends are dearer,
though born of kindred mold;
and while we prize the new ones,
we treasure more the old.

There are no friends like old friends
where ere we dwell or roam,
in lands beyond the ocean
or nearer the bounds of home.
And where they smile to gladden,
or sometimes frown to guide,
we fondly wish those old friends
were always by our side.

There are no friends like old friends,
to calm our frequent fears,
when shadows fall and deepen
through lifes declining years.
And when our faltering footsteps
approach the great divide
we long to meet the old friends
who wait on the other side.

(I conducted a search, but was unable to uncover the author's name to give credit.)