Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/The Parting Friend
THE PARTING FRIEND.
FAIR on the bosom of the Spring,
The trembling flow'ret glows,
But passing storms are on the wing
To chill it ere it blows.
Yet though beneath the verdant spray,
The dew-drops seek to hide,
Before the sun's meridian ray,
Those glittering gems are dried.
And such has been our transient glance,
As sweet, as quickly flown,
A smile, a word, a friendly wish,
And all is clos'd and gone:
But while in scenes of distant joy,
You rove with footstep free,
Soft to your heart, this simple strain
Shall say, "remember me."
Perhaps we part, no more to meet,
And who, my friend, can show
What scenes of sorrow, or of joy,
Await us here below?
Though life to us is in its morn,
And youthful pleasures court,
Its fairest rose conceals a thorn,
Its longest space is short.
But Oh! there is a better state,
Where hopes unfading bloom,
There is a brighter land that gleams
Across the darken'd tomb.
There may we meet, in that blest home,
Where none shall sigh with pain,
Where hours of parting never come,
Nor human frailties stain.