Part 27

--Bacon.

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Come, friend, my fire is burning bright, A fire's no longer out of place, How clear it glows (there's frost tonight) It looks white winter in the face.

Be mine the tree that feeds the fire, Be mine, the sun knows when to set, Be mine, the months when friends desire To turn in here from cold and wet,

--Constable.

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Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, And round his dwelling guardian saints attend; Blest be that spot where cheerful guests retire To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire; Blest that abode where want and pain repair, And every stranger finds a ready chair: Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crowned, With all the ruddy family around.

--Goldsmith.

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But let us drink a merry toast, Let's drink to now and here, Good fellowship shall be our boast, In either woe or cheer! O'er joys we've had, why sorrow brew? Why live in days gone past? We'll drink to friends both old and new, Just so our friends are fast.

--Delaney.

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But oh, if grief thy steps attend, If want, if sickness, be thy lot, And thou require a soothing friend, Forget me not! Forget me not!

--Opie.

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We just shake hands at meeting With many that come nigh; We nod the head in greeting To many that go by. But welcome through the gateway Our few old friends and true; The hearts leap up and straightway There's open house for you, Old friends, There's open house for you.

--Massey.

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Beyond all wealth, honor, or even health, is the attachment we form to noble souls; because to become one with the good, generous, and true, is to become in a measure good, generous, and true ourselves.

--Arnold.

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Be slow in choosing a friend, slower in changing.

--Franklin.

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Convey thy love to thy friend, as an arrow to the mark, to stick there; not as a ball against the wall to rebound back to thee.

--Francis Quarles.

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Ah, friend, let us be true To one another! For the world which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.