“Il n'y a pas d'amitié sans un peu de tendresse”

Friendship there is in Love or Love were not
The bond that holds the rolling world in leash:
But may not Love in Friendship be as true
A consecration and as firm a troth?
Even in Love more blessed 'tis to give
Than to receive. The magnet draws the steel
That leaps to the embrace: does it complain
It cannot draw the magnet? Landor wrote:
“There is delight in singing though none hear
Beside the singer.” Ask the tenderest
If this be not as true of loving, or
The most devout if prayer must wait response
To warm the soul. What were the quality
Of adoration if the saint requited all?
In friendship let us equal be in kind
But wherefore in degree? See yonder candle
Steady and pale, and yonder torch of pine:
How different their light, yet both are flame.
Is the impetuous and ardent friend less true
Than he of tepid preference?

Seek you shade?
Each of God's trees uniquely has its worth,
Grows its own fashion, and defies compare.
Strong is the anchored oak; the feminine elm
Sways with the grace of a blown fountain-spray;
The slender birch stands white and virginal:
Caress its satin bark and it will yield
An aromatic fragrance to your hand;
The maple's round luxuriance of June
Foretells its autumn harvest red and gold.
In Nature's forest calendar which day's
Divinest? All be yours.
And so of friends.
Take them for what they are. Music lies mute
In every cord and wire and waits your touch.
Fear not the joy of friendship, the delight
Reciprocal of gift and sacrifice,
Nor fear to venture where so much is gained;
Nor halt to measure and weigh and calculate,
Saying “I cannot give as much.” or “He
Will more of love expect than I can give.”
Virtue there is in inequality: it makes
The fair, alluring mystery of reserve
'Twixt fact and fact. If the whole tale were told
How unpiquant were fancy! As the eye
Craves obstacles and not the level land,
Give me some hills to climb, some streams to cross
Before I find your spirit's shy retreat.
No futile effort to become the same,
But liking in unlikeness, you being you,
I, I—my torch, your candle, each at hand
As warmth or wisdom may be needed more.
Then shall my ardor match your fine restraint,
Sure that no harm can ever come of Love.