By Jean Racine, Thomas Fry

While fair prosperity illumes our path,
Numerous pretended friends and counsellors
Bask in the sunshine with deceitful smiles;
But when the winter of distress draws nigh,
They sink like summer-insects at the blast.
Give me the friend, who, like the evergreen,
Retains his first appearance, though the storm
Beat with tremendous fury on his head;
And through the dreary winter cheers the eye,
With spring in expectation. Thus the plant
That clings so closely to the sturdy oak,
Quits not its fond attachment e’en in death,
But still embraces its once thriving friend.

This Poem Features In: