Sonnet - An 1809 Poem
By J. For the Boston Mirror.
- If time should e'er bleach my old pate,
- And shrivel these cheeks with his blast;
- And I like a pigeon bereft of its mate,
- Am doom'd my old friend to outlast :
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- When youthful companions are gone,
- And new faces fill up the space;
- And, with the scenes of this life being done,
- Am just about ending its race :
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- One friend, O kind providence grant,
- To cheer the lone hours as they glide,
- To comfort my spirits, alleviate each want,
- And in whom I my thoughts may confide.
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- Life's cares and its sorrows might then be defied
- O! let not the boon be denied!
April 8, 1809. Boston Mirror 1(25): 4.