There are who travel " life's dull road, "
Whom discontent with ceaseless goad
Dir'es forward, murmuring at their load
Of care and woe;
Regardless of the good bestow'd
On all below.

Let us more patiently survey
The prospect, gilded by the ray
Of hope, and cheer'd by fancy gay,
A lovely pair!
And from our spirits cast away
All vain despair.

Believe me, Anne, though I have striven,
On life's rough ocean tempest driven,
And borne the heaviest stroke that Heaven
Inflicts on man,
I will not aught withheld or given
Presume to scan.

And though I often must retrace
The griefs which time can not efface,
I'm not so selfish, blind or base,
As to repine
That she has join'd the angelic race
Who once was mine.

Amid this bitterness of woe
Yet it has been my lot to know
The comfort friendship can bestow,
The kindly tear
That sympathy has made to flow
From hearts sincere.

To thee, my friend, may Heaven assign
A more auspicious fate than mine:
May pure religion's light divine
Thy steps attend,
And cheer with influence benign
Thy journey's end.