Classic Poem

Condition hard of social life,
When love and prudence are at strife!
While that the kindest thoughts inspires,
This caution and distrust requires.

Falshood alas! too oft we meet,
And for a friend a Joab greet:
With smiles and glozing speech carest
We feel the poniard in our breast.

There are, who in my happy days
Will eat my bread and sound my praise:
But when my festal times are o'er,
Shun, as they would the plague, my door.

There is, whose heart I fondly thought
In the same mould with mine was wrought;
To whom my secret I unclos'd,
And my whole naked soul expos'd.

Ere long his falshood he betray'd;
He publish'd counsels of the shade
On the house-top: Yea join'd my foe,
And wove the plot to lay me low.

O for the pinions of a dove!
Far from all traitors I'd remove:
And in some lonely harmless wild,
Dwell there unknown and unbeguil'd.

O rather, Lord, thy servant give
In love and wisdom here to live;
Till thou indulge me a release
To thy own world of truth and peace.