Friends

Now must I these three praise—Three women that have wroughtWhat joy is in my days;One that no passing thought,Nor those unpassing cares,No, not in these fifteenMany times troubled years,Could ever come betweenHeart and delighted heart;And one because her handHad strength that could unbindWhat none can understand,What none can have and thrive,Youth's dreamy load, till sheSo changed me that I liveLabouring in ecstasy.And what of her that tookAll till my youth was gone

With scarce a pitying look?How should I praise that one?When day begins to breakI count my good and bad,Being wakeful for her sake,Remembering what she had,What eagle look still shows,While up from my heart's rootSo great a sweetness flowsI shake from head to foot.