A Temple to Friendship

Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

“A TEMPLE to Friendship,” cried Laura, enchanted,

“I ’ll build in this garden; the thought is divine.”

So the temple was built, and she now only wanted

An image of Friendship, to place on the shrine.

So she flew to the sculptor, who sat down before her

An image, the fairest his art could invent;

But so cold, and so dull, that the youthful adorer

Saw plainly this was not the Friendship she meant.

“O, never,” said she, “could I think of enshrining

An image whose looks are so joyless and dim;

But you little god upon roses reclining,

We ’ll make, if you please, sir, a Friendship of him.”

So the bargain was struck; with the little god laden,

She joyfully flew to her home in the grove.

“Farewell,” said the sculptor, “you ’re not the first maiden

Who came but for Friendship, and took away Love!”