Poems | ||
TO FRIENDS.
If, generous friends, your memories be not slow,When backward your own goodness ye might trace;
And ye will only keep the virtuous pace,
Still to do good, and forward still to go;
Ye will remember, that a heedless thing,
Lingering, as with enchantment, once would stray,
Or lost in thought, or borne on fancy's wing,
Where willowy Cam glides-on his silent way;
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And song, though simple, can from care beguile!)
And he would seem to talk with fields and trees,
Or forms unseen, that fancy taught to smile:
For me—remembrance still shall love those days,
If friendship but approve my visionary lays.
Poems | ||