Memoirs of Anne C. L. Botta/To my friend, on his birthday

Oh, Time! deal gently with my friend, Who gently deals with all; And on his loved and honored head Let blessings only fall

In love to God, and love to man, His days pass here below; And so, to reach the home above, He has not far to go.

But distant be that hapless day That calls him from our view: Heaven has so many souls like his, And Earth, alas! so few