Old friends

Oh! who can deny that the face of a friend,

We loved in the years that are gone

When met with again does not solace the pain

Of the heart that has suffer'd alone

To lean on a bosom we know to be true,

In what grief can it not make amends

Ah! the pleasure's so dear that the joy of a year,

Is the moment of meeting old friends.

Oh! the face of a friend be it wrinkled and marr'd,

In the beauty we gaz'd on of yore

It still bears the charm of remembrance to warm,

And we love it, aye! love it the more

For the heart that is weary of sorrow revives,

And the brow that is thoughtful unbends,

For life has no bliss more precious than this,

A meeting with faithful old friends.