For this a gleam of random joy
    Hath flush’d my unaccustom’d cheek;
  And, with an o’ercharged bursting heart,
    I feel the thanks I cannot speak.

  Oh! sweet are all the Muses’ lays,
    And sweet the charm of matin bird;
  ’Twas long since these estranged ears
    The sweeter voice of friend had heard.

  The voice hath spoke:  the pleasant sounds
    In memory’s ear in after-time
  Shall live, to sometimes rouse a tear,
    And sometimes prompt an honest rhyme.

  For, when the transient charm is fled,
    And when the little week is o’er,
  To cheerless, friendless, solitude
    When I return, as heretofore;

  Long, long, within my aching heart
    The grateful sense shall cherish’d be;
  I’ll think less meanly of myself,
    That Lloyd will sometimes think on me.

* * * * *

THE THREE FRIENDS.

  Three young maids in friendship met;
  Mary, Martha, Margaret. 
  Margaret was tall and fair,
  Martha shorter by a hair;
  If the first excell’d in feature,
  Th’ other’s grace and ease were greater;
  Mary, though to rival loth,
  In their best gifts equall’d both. 
  They a due proportion kept;
  Martha mourn’d if Margaret wept;
  Margaret joy’d when any good
  She of Martha understood;
  And in sympathy for either
  Mary was outdone by neither. 
  Thus far, for a happy space,
  All three ran an equal race,
  A most constant friendship proving,
  Equally beloved and loving;
  All their wishes, joys, the same;
  Sisters only not in name.

    Fortune upon each one smiled,
  As upon a fav’rite child;
  Well to do and well to see
  Were the parents of all three;
  Till on Martha’s father crosses
  Brought a flood of worldly losses,
  And his fortunes rich and great
  Changed at once to low estate: 
  Under which o’erwhelming blow
  Martha’s mother was laid low;
  She a hapless orphan left,
  Of maternal care bereft,
  Trouble following trouble fast,
  Lay in a sick-bed at last.

    In the depth of her affliction
  Martha now receiv’d conviction,
  That a true and faithful friend
  Can the surest comfort lend. 
  Night and day, with friendship tried,
  Ever constant by her side
  Was her gentle Mary found,
  With a love that knew no bound;
  And the solace she imparted
  Saved her dying broken-hearted.

    In this scene of earthly things
  Not one good unmixed springs. 
  That which had to Martha proved
  A sweet consolation, moved
  Different feelings of regret
  In the mind of Margaret. 
  She, whose love was not less dear,
  Nor affection less sincere
  To her friend, was, by occasion
  Of more distant habitation,
  Fewer visits forced to pay her;