“GRIEF, THOU HAST LOST AN EVER-READY FRIEND”
GRIEF, thou hast lost an ever-ready friend Now that the cottage Spinning-wheel is mute; And Care–a comforter that best could suit Her froward mood, and softliest reprehend; And Love–a charmer’s voice, that used to lend, More efficaciously than aught that flows From harp or lute, kind influence to compose The throbbing pulse–else troubled without end: Even Joy could tell, Joy craving truce and rest From her own overflow, what power sedate 10 On those revolving motions did await Assiduously–to soothe her aching breast; And, to a point of just relief, abate The mantling triumphs of a day too blest. 1819.