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.