A PLEA

GIVE me one friend, just one, who meets
The needs of all my varying moods;
Be we in noisy city streets,
Or in dear Nature’s solitudes.

One who can let the World go by,
And suffer not a minute’s pang;
Who’d dare to shock propriety
With me, and never care a hang.

Who in my rarely righteous streaks,
Should love me, — love me not the less
When I am given to outbreaks
Of pure, besotted selfishness.

One who, when I am sick and glum,
Can lay conventious on the shelf,
And just for my dear sake become
A blooming heathen, like myself.

One who can share my grief or mirth,And know my days to praise or curse;
And rate me just for what I’m worth,
And find me still, —Oh, not so worse!

Give me one friend, for peace or war,
And I shall hold myself well-blest,
And richly compensated for
The cussedness of all the rest.

Esther M. Clark