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A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
Whereon he loved to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his rump around.
His frisking was at evening hours,
For then he lost his fear,
Or when a storm drew near.
Eight years and five round rolling moons
He thus saw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons,
And every night at play.
I kept him for his humor's sake,
For he would oft beguile
And force me to a smile.
But now beneath this walnut shade
He finds his long last home,
Till gentler Puss shall come.
He, still more aged, feels the shocks,
From which no care can save, And, partner once of Tiney's box,
Must soon partake his grave.
Amicitia nisi inter bonos esse non potest.
WHAT virtue can we name, or grace,
Will boast it their possession ?
And dulness of discretion.
But as the gem of richest cost
So, always, imitation
The friend of long duration.
Some will pronounce me too severe
Therefore that census scorning,
And give the simple warning.
Youth, unadmonished by a guide,
An error soon corrected;
Is most to be suspected!
But here again a danger lies
And taking trash for treasure,
A mere Utopian pleasure.
An acquisition, rather rare,
Nor should it seem distressful,
We sought it unsuccessful.
No friendship will abide the test
And mean self-love erected; Nor such, as may awhile subsist 'Twixt sensualist and sensualist,
For vicious ends connected.
Who hopes a friend, should have a heart,
And ready on occasion
A just reciprocation.
A fretful temper will divide
By ceaseless sharp corrosion; A temper passionate and fierce May suddenly your joys disperse
At one immense explosion.
In vain the talkative unite
The secret just committed,
And by themselves outwitted.
How bright soe'er the prospect seems,
If envy chance to creep in;
But not a friend worth keeping.
As envy pines at good possessed,
On good that seems approaching;
And hates him for encroaching.
Hence authors of illustrious name, (Unless belied by common fame,)
Are sadly prone to quarrel;
To deem the wit a friend displays
And pluck each other's laurel.
A man renowned for repartee
With friendship's finest feeling;
By way of balm for healing.
Beware of tattlers; keep your ear
Fruits of their own invention;
Their sport is your dissension.
Friendship that wantonly admits
In brilliant altercation,
Danger of conflagration.
Some fickle creatures boast a soul
Yet shifting, like the weather,