AS secret's the grave be the man whom I trust ;
What friendship imparts still let honour conceal,
A plague on those babblers, their names be accurs'd !
Still first to enquire, and the first to reveal.
As open as day let me be with the man
Who tells me my failings from motives upright,
But when of those gossiping fools I meet one,
Let me fold in my soul and be close as the night.
Note by the Author.—“Written on hearing a fellow tell some stories to the hurt of his best friends.”
[Semple 35]