To Charles Lloyd: An Unexpected Visitor

Alone, obscure, without a friend, A cheerless, solitary thing, Why seeks, my Lloyd, the stranger out? What offering can the stranger bring Of social scenes, home-bred delights, That him in aught compensate may For Stowey's pleasant winter nights, For loves and friendships far away? In brief oblivion to forego Friends, such as thine, so justly dear, And be awhile with me content To stay, a kindly loiterer, here: For this a gleam of random joy Hath flush'd my unaccustom'd cheek; And, with an o'er-charg'd bursting heart, I feel the thanks I cannot speak. Oh! sweet are all the Muses' lays, And sweet the charm of matin bird; 'Twas long since these estranged ears The sweeter voice of friend had heard. The voice hath spoke: the pleasant sounds In memory's ear in after time Shall live, to sometimes rouse a tear, And sometimes prompt an honest rhyme. For, when the transient charm is fled, And when the little week is o'er, To cheerless, friendless, solitude When I return, as heretofore, Long, long, within my aching heart The grateful sense shall cherish'd be; I'll think less meanly of myself, That Lloyd will sometimes think on me.