THE OLD FRIEND AND THE NEW.
My old friend, he was a good old friend,
And I thought, like a fool, his face to mend;
I got another; but ah! to my cost.
I found him unlike the one I had lost!
I and my friend, we were bred together:—
He had a smile like the summer weather;
A kind warm heart; and a hand as free:—
My friend, he was all the world to me!
I could sit with him and crack many a joke,
And talk of old times and the village folk;
He had been with us at the Christmas time;
He knew every tree we used to climb;
And where we played; and what befell,
My dear old friend remembered well.
It did me good but to see his face;
And I’ve put another friend in his place!
I wonder how such a thing could be,
For my old friend would not have slighted me!
Oh my fine new friend, he is smooth and bland,
With a jewelled ring or two on his hand;
He visits my lord and my lady fair;
He hums the last new opera air.
He takes not the children on his knee;
My faithful hound reproacheth me,
For he snarls when my new friend draweth near,
But my good old friend to the brute was dear!
I wonder how I such a thing could do,
As change the old friend for the new!
My rare old friend, he read the plays,
That were written in Master Shakspeare’s days;
He found in them wit and moral good:—
My new friend thinks them coarse and rude:—
And many a pleasant song he sung,
Because they were made when we were young;
He was not too grand, not he, to know
The merry old songs made long ago.
He writ his name on the window-pane;—
It was cracked by my new friend’s riding-cane!
My good old friend, “he tirled at the pin,”
He opened the door and entered in;
We all were glad to see his face
As he took at the fire his ’customed place,
And the little children, loud in glee,
They welcomed him as they welcomed me.
He knew our griefs, our joys he shared;
There cannot be friend with him compared;
We had tried him long, had found him true!
Why changed I the old friend for the new?
My new friend cometh in lordly state;
He peals a startling ring at the gate;
There’s hurry and pomp, there’s pride and din,
And my new friend bravely entereth in.
I bring out the noblest wines for cheer,
I make him a feast that costeth dear;
But he knows not what in my heart lies deep;—
He may laugh with me, but never shall weep,
For there is no bond between us twain;
And I sigh for my dear old friend again;
And thus, too late, I bitterly rue
That I changed the old friend for the new!