My Friend

Who loves the beautiful music
Of the rippling waters' flow,
Or the falling of the snow flakes
When the wintry wind doth blow,
Or the noisy crow's harsh cawing,
Or the sigh of the autumn breeze
Is a friend, a dear companion
With whom my heart's at ease.

Who sees the first sweet flower
That peeps from the mellow ground,
Who stops in adoration
When the lark's sweet notes resound,
Who notes the sweet buds swelling
When winter has flown at last,
Is a lover true of nature
And a friend of mine, steadfast.

Who loves the crow of the infant
Or the prattle of children sweet,
The noise of their merry laughter
And the tramp of their busy feet,
Or the blush of the modest maiden
When a sweet bouquet is thrown,
Is a friend, a dear companion
I am proud to call my own.

^__Ed Blair.