Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree -
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms'
But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,
It's summer blossoms scent the air.
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck...
When we were idlers with the loitering rills,
The need of human love we little noted:
Our love was nature; and the peace that floated
On the white mist, and dwelt upon the hills,
To sweet accord subdued our wayward wills:
One soul was ours, one mind, one heart devoted,
That, wisely doting, ask’d not why it doted,
And ours the unknown joy, which knowing kills...
A Ruddy drop of manly blood
The surging sea outweighs;
The world uncertain comes and goes,
The lover rooted stays.
I fancied he was fled,—
And, after many a year,
Glowed unexhausted kindliness,
Like daily sunrise there.
My careful heart was free again;
O friend, my bosom said,
Through thee alone the sky is arched,...
From “Night Thoughts,” Night II.
CELESTIAL Happiness, whene’er she stoops
To visit Earth, one shrine the goddess finds,
And one alone, to make her sweet amends
For absent Heaven—the bosom of a friend;
Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft,
Each other’s pillow to repose divine.
Beware the counterfeit; in passion’s flame
...
The Half-seen memories of childish days,
When pains and pleasures lightly came and went;
The sympathies of boyhood rashly spent
In fearful wanderings through forbidden ways;
The vague, but manly wish to tread the maze
Of life to noble ends,—whereon intent,
Asking to know for what man here is sent,
The bravest heart must often pause, and...
From “Hamlet,” Act III. Sc. 2.
HAMLET.—Horatio, thou art e’en as just a man
As e’er my conversation coped withal.
HORATIO.—O my dear lord—
HAMLET.— Nay, do not think I flatter:
For what advancement may I hope from thee
That no revènue hast but thy good spirits,
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?
...
“a Temple to Friendship,” cried Laura, enchanted,
“I ’ll build in this garden; the thought is divine.”
So the temple was built, and she now only wanted
An image of Friendship, to place on the shrine.
So she flew to the sculptor, who sat down before her
An image, the fairest his art could invent;
But so cold, and so dull, that the youthful...
On H——ys Friendship
When H——y finds out what you cannot do
That is the Very thing hell set you to
If you break not your Neck tis not his fault
But pecks of poison are not pecks of salt[3]
...
To H
Thy Friendship oft has made my heart to ake
Do be my Enemy for Friendships sake
