Oh, call it by some better name, For friendship sounds too cold. - Thomas Moore

Thus, when the lamp that lighted
The traveller at first goes out,
He feels awhile benighted,
And looks around in fear and doubt.
But soon, the prospect clearing,
By cloudless starlight on he treads,
And thinks no lamp so cheering
As that light which Heaven sheds.

Take all the pleasures of all the spheres,
And multiply each through endless years,—
One minute of heaven is worth them all.

My only books
Were woman's looks,
And folly's all they've taught me.