FEMALE FRIENDSHIP.
Joy cannot claim a purer bliss,
Nor grief a dew from stain more clear,
Than female friendship’s meeting kiss,
Than female friendship’s parting tear.
How sweet the heart’s full bliss to pour
To her, whose smile must crown the store!
How sweeter still to tell of woes
To her, whose faithful breast would share
In every grief, in every care,
Whose sigh can lull them to repose!
Oh! blessed sigh! there is no sorrow,
But from thy breath can sweetness borrow;
E’en to the pale and drooping flower
That fades in love’s neglected hour;
E’en with her woes can friendship’s pow’r
One happier feeling blend:
’Tis from her restless bed to creep,
And sink like wearied babe to sleep,
On the soft couch her sorrows steep,
The bosom of a friend.
Miss Mitford.
LINES TO A SPARROW.
Who comes to my Window every
Morning for his Breakfast.
Master Dicky, my dear,
You have nothing to fear,
Your proceedings I mean not to check, sir;
Whilst the weather benumbs,
We should pick up our crumbs,
So, I prithee, make free with a peck, sir.
I’m afraid it’s too plain
You’re a villain in grain,
But in that you resemble your neighbours,
For mankind have agreed
It is right to suck seed,
Then, like you, hop the twig with their labours.
Besides this, master Dick,
You of trade have the trick,
In all branches you traffic at will, sir;
You have no need of shops
For your samples of hops,
And can ev’ry day take up your bill, sir.
Then in foreign affairs
You may give yourself airs,
For I’ve heard it reported at home, sir,
That you’re on the best terms
With the diet of Worms,
And have often been tempted to Rome, sir.