LIFE'S SUNNY SPOTS. BY JOANNA BAILLIE. I WILL collect some rare, some cheerful friends, The rest dull breathing sleep. Thus, it is true, from the sad years of life We sometimes do short hours, yea minutes strike, Keen, blissful, bright, never to be forgotten; Which, through the dreary gloom of time o'er past, Shine like fair sunny spots on a wild waste. VALUE OF FRIENDSHIP. BY SOUTHERN. FRIENDSHIP is power and riches all to me; 4 L'AMITIE EST L'AMOUR SANS LES AILES. BY BYRON. WHY should my anxious breast repine, Because my youth is fled? Days of delight may still be mine; Affection is not dead. In tracing back the years of youth, Bear it, ye breezes, to the seat, Where first my heart responsive beat,- Through few, but deeply chequered years, Friendship! that thought is all thine own, Worth worlds of bliss, that thought alone"Friendship is Love without his wings!" Where yonder yew-trees lightly wave Unheeded heaves a simple grave, From yonder studious mansion rings; "Friendship is Love without his wings!" Oh Love! before thy glowing shrine My hopes, my dreams, my heart was thine, Seat of my youth! thy distant spire Thy grove of elmes, thy verdant hill, Thy every part delights me still,— Each flower a double fragrance flings; Again, as once, in converse gay, "Friendship is Love without his wings!" My Lycus! wherefore dost thou weep? Thy falling tears restrain; Affection for a time may sleep, But, oh, 'twill wake again. Think, think, my friend, when next we meet, 66 Friendship is Love without his wings! In one, and one alone deceived, Did I my error mourn? I turned to those my childhood knew, Twined with my heart's according strings: Ye few, my soul, my life is yours, Your worth a lasting love ensures, From smooth deceit and terror sprung With joy elate, by snares beset, We, we, my friends, can ne'er forget, 'Friendship is Love without his wings!" Fictions and dreams inspire the bard Friendship and Truth be my reward— If laurelled Fame but dwells with lies, Whose heart and not whose fancy sings; In storms. Time draweth wrinkles in a fair Face, but addeth fresh colours to a fast Friend, which neither heat, nor cold, nor mis'ry, Nor place, nor destiny, can alter or Diminish. O friendship! of all things the Most rare, and therefore most rare, because most Excellent; whose comforts in misery Are always sweet, and whose counsels in Prosperity are ever fortunate. Vain love! that only coming near to friendship In name, would seem to be the same, or better, In nature. Lilly. |