(Digging through a clipping book by William Webster Ellsworth, a bit of poetry.  It is unclear if it is his, or if it is a translation that he did.  However, since everything else in the book is work that he did, it is likely that it is his.  It appeared in Scribner’s Monthly, later known as the Century Illustrated Magazine in 1875-76.  He did write some poetry when he was young, but then turned to working primarily as an editor, feeling that he didn’t have what it took to be a creative writer.  His standards were rather high…)

My Friend

(After the German)

The friend who holds a mirror to my face,

And hiding none, is not afraid to trace

My faults, my smallest blemishes, within;

Who friendly warns, reproves me if I sin,

Although it seem not so, he is my friend.


But he who, ever flattering, gives me praise,

Who ne’er rebukes, nor censures, nor delays

To come with eagerness and grasp my hand,

And pardon me, ere the pardon I demand,

He is my enemy, although he seem my friend.