By Nelson Forsyth.
Tis hard, indeed, to find a friend
On whom we always may depend;
We oft suppose that friends we've got,
'Till trials prove we have them not.
Many, to serve some selfish end,
Declare and vow they are your friend.
But soon as serving self is o'er,
Behold, they are your friends no more.
Apparent friendship others show,
To find out all that you may know;
Your secrets then are quizzed out,
Then they are handed all about.
Others will act a part more base,
Always be friendly to your face,
You turn your back, they then your name
Expose to obloquy and shame.
Those who of others tell you much,
My counsel is, beware of such;
Oh, yes, forever keep your ear
Closed-stopped-against the tales they hear.
A faithful friend I highly prize,
A treacherous one I do despise;
All in suspense I ask around,
Where can a real friend be found!
When fortune's golden crown you wear.
Friends are numerous and to spare;
When poverty overshadows you,
Alas! how many prove untrue.
Whenever disposed a friend to find.
Always be sure to prove her first,
And when she's tried, then treat her kind,
A faithful friend is hard to find.