Go, little book, and find our Friend,
Who Nature and the Muses loves,
Who cares the public virtues blend
With all the softness of the groves.
A fitter time thou canst not choose,
His fostering friendship to repay;
Go then, and try, my rural muse,
To steal his widowed hours away.
James Thomson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stanzas-written-by-thomson-on-the-blank-leaf-of-a-copy-of-his-seasons-sent-by-him-to-mr-lyttleton-soon-after-the-death-of-his-wife/
