Is kindness, then, so dainty a flower,
That it grows alone in one chosen bower?
Hast thou not many a brother dear,
With thee to hope, and with thee to fear,
Owning a common Father’s aid,
Resting alike in a common shade?
Yes, friends may be kind, and vales may be green,
And brooks may sparkle along between;
But it is not Friendship’s kindest look,
Nor loveliest vale, nor clearest brook,