  I’ve lost a thing of value great, And, woe is me, I’ll now find it The very choicest thing of all, Or sure, you know I wouldn’t mind it. Some call it friendship—I don’t know. But take their word as is my duty, But if the definition’s true, Then friendship is a thing of beauty. For mine took on so fair a form It charmed away all care and sadness, It flashed out beams so strong and warm, Away went everything but gladness. It looked from tender eyes of brown, And spake my greatest fault forgiven, In wondrous sweetness there it shone— In truest eyes outside of heaven. I felt it in the hand I clasped, So small, and yet so strong to guide me Through waters deep, or breakers past, Or aught that threatened to betide me. With ripe red lips it spake to me, O voice, that always soothes and blesses! While I, Philistine, felt to pray That I might silence it with kisses. I’ve lost all this by my mistake, I walked, you see, not circumspectly, I pressed a claim for love’s sweet sake, And friendship took to flight directly. And I am left to think with pain How folly caused my loss and sorrow, Had I my friendship back again I’d do the very same to-morrow. [Decorative image unavailable.] |
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