Classic Poem

My much-loved friend! whose labours oft dispense,
To the worn sufferer, health's returning bloom;
Skilful, yet modest; kind, without pretence;
Whose cordial sympathy has cheer'd the gloom
Of hours more dark than Winter's self can show:
While lengthen'd evenings linger out the year,
May we, beside thy fire's reviving glow,
Beguile in social converse evenings drear
And if at such an hour a transient thought
Of vain regret for blessings known no more
Should cross my mind; thy friendship, richly fraught
With consolation, shall my peace restore;
Grateful I'll bow to Heaven's supreme decree,
Which, though it call'd for much, yet left me thee.