Who are the Poet’s friends? Alas!
But few in human shape he has;
Yet Nature shrines a hoard for him,
Far in her sanctuary dim:
Forth, from the flowers and gentle streams,
For him a ray of friendship gleams;
The breeze that shakes the forest-tree,
For him hath love and sympathy;
The sunset cloud a radiance lends —
And wave and star to him are friends.