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

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           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