Upon The Sand.

        All love that has not friendship for its base
    Is like a mansion built upon the sand.
    Though brave its walls as any in the land,
        And its tall turrets lift their heads in grace;
        Though skilful and accomplished artists trace
    Most beautiful designs on every hand,
    And gleaming statues in dim niches stand,
        And fountains play in some flow'r-hidden place:

        Yet, when from the frowning east a sudden gust
    Of adverse fate is blown, or sad rains fall,
    Day in, day out, against its yielding wall,
        Lo! the fair structure crumbles to the dust.
    Love, to endure life's sorrow and earth's woe,
    Needs friendship's solid mason-work below.