ON
THE
DANGEROUS
ILLNESS
OF
MY
FRIEND
MRS
L.
13TH
MAY
,
1788.
WHAT
is't
to
me
though
Earth's
green
lap
be
spread
With
new-sprung
flowers
,
the
first-born
of
the
year
!
The
smirking
daisy
and
the
cowslip
tall
May
walk
the
mead
,
or
wander
near
the
brook
;
The
liquid
mirror
may
reflect
the
tree
Whose
opening
leaves
now
mottle
all
the
stream
;
Their
fluttering
tenants
,
crowding
cliff
and
spray
,
May
the
green
curtain
tight
and
closely
draw
,
To
hide
the
habitation
,
wove
with
care
,
And
all
the
fostering
secrecy
of
love
.
The
gilded
insect
basking
in
the
sun
,
Fann'd
by
his
light
,
and
many
a
colour'd
wing
,
Now
shows
with
how
much
care
Nature
adorns
Her
smallest
work
.
What
are
all
these
to
me
!
My
thoughts
from
pleasure
and
from
former
joys
Start
wild
away
;
Amusement's
silver
cords
Bind
on
the
fancy
no
one
form
of
bliss
;
I
try
to
lose
myself
,
but
still
pursu'd
By
Fear
,
I
only
fly
to
agony
of
mind
,
There
lose
the
sight
of
all
but
one
sad
grief
,
Which
sits
enthron'd
within
this
aching
heart
.
The
fairest
lily
of
the
field
now
droops
,
—
Hangs
low
the
head
,
where
Beauty
soft
had
wove
Those
sweet
entanglements
that
hold
the
eye
,
And
through
her
silken
veil
would
fondly
show
The
various
workings
of
the
virtuous
soul
;
The
heart
look'd
through
,
and
spread
along
the
face
The
sentimental
trait
that
mark'd
the
mind
.
Compassion
oft
would
bud
into
a
tear
,
And
honest
Scorn
would
flush
the
redd'ning
cheek
,
When
harsh
conclusions
or
ungenerous
truths
Would
drop
like
gall
from
the
satiric
tongue
.
Worth
she
approv'd
,
however
mean
array'd
;
And
greatness
could
not
charm
but
by
the
soul
.
Her
accents
fell
with
such
a
melting
sound
On
every
word
that
cloth'd
her
modest
thought
,
That
sweet
Expression
told
the
careless
heart
Whene'er
she
spoke
she
could
not
speak
in
vain
!
Your
eye
from
her's
would
learn
a
mode
of
speech
Which
,
when
she
pleas'd
,
could
useless
make
the
ear
,
And
ere
the
sentence
left
its
hallow'd
cave
,
Would
tell
what
thought
was
venturing
next
abroad
.
Nor
had
Disguise
in
all
her
face
or
soul
One
place
to
hide
her
poor
and
artful
head
;
Truth
and
her
train
had
tenanted
each
cell
,
And
honest
Friendship
at
the
portal
stood
To
point
or
tell
you
what
was
done
within
.
But
,
ah
!
she
droops
;
and
I
am
drooping
too
!
'Tis
not
for
me
to
hold
the
aching
head
,
And
cordials
in
my
hands
and
eyes
to
bear
,
To
cheer
her
longer
with
a
ray
of
hope
,
And
promise
Ease
,
that
wanders
with
To-morrow
;
To
watch
the
askings
of
the
weary
eye
,
And
ere
the
wish
be
form'd
the
wish
foresee
;
To
me
such
happiness
must
ne'er
belong
!
Myself
who
tax
the
tenderness
of
friends
,
And
oft
require
their
all-supporting
aid
,
Else
,
else
this
drooping
,
withering
plant
had
long
,
Had
long
ere
this
been
mouldering
in
the
dust
.
O
Father
of
the
Universe
!
'tis
thou
Who
giv'st
us
life
,
and
health
,
and
joy
,
and
ease
;
For
these
continu'd
grateful
let
us
be
;
If
taken
from
us
,
let
us
firm
believe
Thy
goodness
equal
in
what
thou
withhold'st
,
As
in
what
thou
benevolently
giv'st
;
Let
us
submit
.
But
oh
!
if
'tis
thy
will
To
save
my
friend
,
and
hold
her
yet
in
life
,
O
God
of
Heaven
!
how
thankful
shall
I
be
.
If
not
,
let
me
,
all
humble
,
strive
to
yield
,
Assur'd
that
thou
hast
everlasting
store
Of
endless
bliss
for
every
soul
like
her's
;
For
true
religion
purified
her
heart
,
—
Ran
through
the
current
of
her
blameless
life
,
And
made
it
one
continued
hymn
to
Thee
!