FAME, and honour, wealth, and friendship,
All are objects of desire,
Frequent sought with ceaseless trouble,
All can ardent hopes inspire.
Fame is but a tell-tale echo,
Which the passing sounds repeats,
Loudly praising each new object,
Till the next its flatt’ry greets;-
‘T is a momentary bubble,
Buoy’d up by th’ unstable air;
Let censure’s busy finger touch it,
And ‘t will instant disappear.
Wealth is seldom rightly valued,
Tempting e’en the wise astray:-
To the starving miser useless,
By the spendthrift thrown away.
Health and peace it cannot purchase,
But will frequent both destroy;
Who would sacrifice his comfort,
To obtain the glittering toy?
What is that distinction-honour,
If in rank alone ’tis plac’d,
Vain are sounding pompous titles
When to worthless names prefac’d-
These bestow nor worth, nor talents,
Nor one moment’s true delight,
Life may be possess’d without them,
With as much enjoyment quite.
But if friendship be the object
Which thy ardent bosom warms,
Then the wish to gain it cherish-
Friendship has intrinsic charms.
Friendship is the mind’s best riches,
Source of pleasure most refin’d-
Earth without it were a desart,
Men would be of savage kind.
Was thy name on fame’s swift pinions
Wafted o’er the billowy deep,
Was it known in every language,
Far as ocean’s waters sweep-
Or was all the wealth of Afric-
Or Peru’s unfathom’d mines,
All Indostan’s boasted treasures,
Every sparkling gem that shines
In the earth’s luxuriant bosom,
All the wealth of either zone,
All the products of its surface,
Were these thine and thine alone-
Were thy titles more and greater
Than e’er Eastern monarchs claim’d,
More than e’er to please a tyrant
Servile adulation fram’d-
Yet did not one bosom cherish
Thoughts of tenderness for thee,
Nor e’er smiles of pleasure gladden
Other faces thine to see-
Did no eye beam with affection,
Pleas’d thy welcome voice to hear;
Did the voice of friendship never
Pour its music on thine ear?
Then, with all the wealth and titles
Pride and av’rice could desire,
All thy joyless pomp of station
Would no envious thoughts inspire-
Happier were the simple peasant,
Who can, when his labours end,
Find, in some kind-hearted neighbour,
The greatest joy of life-a friend.
Happier far the poor mechanic,
Who, his daily bus’ness o’er,
Meets his wife and prattling children,
Smiling welcome at the door.
(Isabella Lickbarrow)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Life Poems, Mind Poems, Friendship Poems, Hope Poems, Smiling Poems, Money & Wealth Poems, Wisdom & Knowledge Poems, Children Poems, Pleasure Poems, Fame PoemsBased on Keywords: adulation, kind-hearted, life-a, indostan