06 November 2013

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 :
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 :
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.
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.