In dreary days of snow and frost,
Closer to Man will cling the Sparrow:
Old friends, although in life we're crost,
Their hearts to us will never narrow.
Give me the bird--give me the friend--
Will sing in frost--will love in sorrow--
Whate'er mischance to-day may send,
Will greet me with his sight to-morrow.
--_Lamb_.
* * * * *
True happiness consists not in the
multitude of friends, but in the worth and
choice.
--_Dr. Johnson_.
* * * * *
The earth-born clod who hugs his idol pelf,
His only friends are Mammon and himself;
The drunken sots, who want the art to think,
Still cease from friendship when they cease from drink.
The empty fop who scarce for man will pass,
Ne'er sees a friend but when he views his glass.
Friendship first springs from sympathy of mind,
Which to complete the virtues all combine,
And only found 'mongst men who can espy
The merits of his friend without envy.
Thus all pretending friendship's but a dream,
Whose base is not reciprocal esteem.
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