The Flower of Friendship
Of sweet perfume and lovely hue,A favorite in my blooming bower,
Warmed by the sun, refreshed by shower,
Securely there it grew.
If gladness filled my youthful breast,
More bright its beauties shone;It seemed to hail the joyful guest,
And by its sweet perfume confessed,
It lived for me alone.
When sorrow's adverse hour was mine,
I sought its bloom in vain,No brightness on its stem could find,
In sympathetic grief it pined,
For Friendship was its name.
O that this gem to me so dear,
Still blessed me with its ray,I saw a fearful form appear -
In vain my interposing care,
It bore my prize away.
And now, though other flowers are near,
Vain is their bloom for me,Their gay luxuriance mocks my tear,
Than leafless shrub their tints more drear,
Dear plant, since reft of thee.
O death - how well thou know'st to aim,
Thy sure directed dart,Toward those most we love, or M-----
With smiles of love could bless again,
This desolated heart.