Here you will find the Poem Friendship of poet John Crowe Ransom
I VIEWED him well, the visible fat fool, And yet I took him in; for I contended, Friends are not sent in order of our choosing, They come unsuited like the gifts of God. I would not do a perfidy to friendship, I let him past the private inner gate And made him be at home among my treasures Like my true friend. Now I am ground with a grim torture daily That I have been befriended by a fool. He forages at will upon my garden, He noses all its pretty secrets out, And still the fool finds nothing to his liking. Meeting a modest velveteen affair, Peevish he hangs his sad and silly head: 'Alas! such unsubstantial gaudy goods!' Thus he meets pansies; meeting zinnias, He nearly faints at such a rioting: 'Alas! what fruit will these red wantons bear?' And not a perfume spills upon the air But his malicious nose suspects a poison, As he goes browsing like an ancient ass, An old distempered ass. I'd almost rather be a friendless man And have my house my own. The prying fool Asks me the queerest idiotic questions: 'O friend, is this the harvest of your hands? How will you stand before the lord of harvests? These are the gardens of your idleness; Where is the vineyard, friend?'
