TO THE FRIEND OF MY YOUTH.
To thee, my friend, I wish a happy year,
With friendship true, and with a heart sincere;
May this new year a bounteous blessing prove,
And calm the bosom of the friend I love.
May that connubial tie from her be loosed,
Till some fond Damon shall the bondage choose;
And then with care she’ll mind the nicest part—
Join not the hand till you have won the heart.
There needs no caution, then, methinks she’ll say;
And with a flirt she throws my scroll away.
But still I see her take it up anew,
And say, “I’ll read,”—because her heart is true.
The happy year again the theme she’ll lend,
With anxious wishes for our absent friends:
May the dark curtain of the winter scene
Be calmy drawn, and spring-time blessings bring.
Then let the gales be gentle, kind and sure,
And speed the barque on this her destined tour;
While May’s sweet breezes waft them gently home,
Ladened with riches from a foreign clime.
Then their return will crown the jocund year:
Old friends, old scenes, and all they hold most dear
Will crowd around, and fill each heart with love—
Each voice with thanks to him who reigns above.
