Classic Poem

On a Gentleman's asking — " If my Goldfinches could supply the loss of my favorite Squirrel? "

You ask — " If yon Goldfinches, gay,
" The loss of my Squirrel supply? "
Alas! 'tis with sorrow I say,
I think of him, still — with a sigh!
Tho' cheerful they hail my return
With accents melodious and clear,
Yet, still for my Squirrel, I mourn, —
Tho' the carol be sweet to my ear.

Thus, Strephon, the bosom that glows
With friendship all chaste and refined,
Regards not the accents of those,
Whose carol's as light as their mind:
The friend that is gone , we deplore,
No charm can his absence supply,
No chance can his presence restore;
But we think of him still — with a sigh.