Who lived low—conceived, intellectual moles—
"Next door to" our bodies—but not to our souls.
The rattlesnake, viper, and toad have a use,
And so has the vile tongue that rots with abuse.
A thank to the friends who looked high for our mark,
And lighted the way when 'twas dreary and dark;
For he that has groped through the fog of despair,
'Till he fought his way out to the light and the air,
Has one thing he never forgets, you will find;
And that's the first help of a friend that is kind.