Friend of my friend, the looked-for day has come, And we have met: to me, at least, a day Memorable: no hopes have flown away. Bad fears lie broken, stricken henceforth dumb: In the thronged room, and in the ceaseless hum Of many voices, I heard one voice say A few brief words,--but words that did convey A subtle breath of friendship, as in some Few scattered leaves the rose still gives her scent. Thy hand has been in mine, and I this night Have seen thine eyes reach answer eloquent To unseen questions winged for eager flight. And when, at last, our Philip and I went, I knew that I had won a fresh delight. The following letter from Mr. Sharp explains itself in this cluster of greetings: _William Sharp to Philip Bourke Marston_ 19 ALBERT STREET, REGENT'S PARK. DEAR PHILIP: I couldn't be bothered going out anywhere, as you suggested, and an hour or two ago I was able to complete a second sonnet for the two on "Anticipated Friendship" addressed to Mrs. Moulton. I told you how much I liked her, and what a relief it was to find my hopes not disappointed. In reading these sonnets (at least, the second one) remember the dolorous condition I am in, and have mercy on all short-comings that therein abound; and, please, if you think the spirit of thankfulness in them not sufficient to overbalance all deficiencies, throw them in the fire without showing them to their unconscious inspirer, and thus earn the future gratitude of Your loving friend, WILLIAM SHARP. In February of 1887 Philip Bourke Marston died. He bequeathed to Mrs. Moulton his books and manuscripts, and many autographs of great interest and value. Among them was the first page of the original manuscript of the first great chorus in "Atalanta in Calydon" corrected in Swinburne's own hand. Marston requested that she should be his literary executor. Speaking of this work some years later, Mrs. Moulton said: "When I first knew the Marstons they were a group of five,--dear old Dr. Marston, his son, Philip Bourke Marston, his unmarried daughter Cecily, his married daughter Mrs. Arthur O'Shaughnessy, and her husband. I edited a volume of selections by O'Shaughnessy; and I was named by Mr. Marston, in his will, as his literary executor. I brought out after his death a volume whose contents had not been hitherto included in any book, and which I called 'A Last Harvest.' Then I put all his flower-poems together (as he had long wished to do) in a volume by themselves, which was entitled 'Garden Secrets.' Finally I have brought out a collected edition of his poems, including the three volumes published before his death, and the ones I had compiled after he died.