Page:Poems Betham.djvu/43

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

29



The thistle has still many more,
As visible too in our eyes,
But who will take pains with a weed,
That nobody ever can prize?

'Tis what we deem precious and rare,
We most earnestly seek to amend;
And anxious attention and care,
Is the costliest gift of a friend.

We all have our follies: what then?
Let us note them, and never look bluff!
Without any caressing at all,
They will cling to us closely enough.

Weeds are of such obstinate growth,
They elude the most diligent hand;
And, if they were not to be check'd,
Would quickly run over the land.