First published in Punch, January 1, 1919

(Inspired  by  the exchange of  Minutes in Government Departments)

TO AN UNKNOWN COLLEAGUE
By
P. G. Wodehouse

He was my friend-if friendship's proof
Be sympathy profound and sweet;
Eight months we toiled beneath one roof,
Yet somehow never chanced to meet.

So near and yet so far! I own
We may have passed upon the stair;
Yet, if we did, we passed unknown;
No tremor told me he was there.

He knew not it was I. Alas!
With such community of souls
That he and I should blindly pass
And live as sundered as the poles!

For I, when darkness sealed my eyes,
Would place my judgement in his hands,
Would ask him humbly to advise
And yield myself to his commands;

Just hinting what my view might be
(If asked) on this or  that affair,
But never in undue degree
And with a deprecating air.

And he, thus modestly addressed,
Would wield an amicable pen
And say he thought my view was best
In full nine cases out of ten.

And so the deep harmonious flood
Our friendship flowed, and proved, I think,
Though water be less dense than blood,
Yet blood is far less dense than ink.

And now when things are somewhat slow,
My leisure moments I beguile
By reading o'er with heart aglow
A certain odd and dusty file---

One out of hundreds, kept to prove
A truth the world may oft  forget,
That there can live pure trust and love
'Twixt  persons who have never met.

Oh! Sweet the trill of mating larks!
But sweeter, sweeter, I aver,
That soft appeal-"For your remarks,"
That gentle answer-"We concur".