I had the sad experience recently of finding out that one of the friends of my youth had died. Another link with the past was broken. It was to this poem that I turned.
Charles Lamb (1775–1834) was an essayist and poet. He was a schoolfriend of Coleridge, and knew Wordsworth and Hazlitt. His best-known work today is the children’s book Tales from Shakespeare, co-written with his sister Mary.
He wrote many poems, but it is only this one that has survived to achieve immortality. It’s easy to see why. It says something that we can all recognise, particularly as we get older, in plain and clear language. It captures the pain of nostalgia perfectly. And with the title, Lamb added a phrase to the language.
The Old Familiar Faces by Charles Lamb
I have had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days,
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies,
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I loved a love once, fairest among women;
Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her —
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man;
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.
Ghost-like, I paced round the haunts of my childhood.
Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert not thou born in my father’s dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces —
How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
The Good Reader 