On Imagining A Friend Had Treated The Author With Indifference.

Go, Jealousy, Tormentress dire;
On Lovers only seize:
In Love, like Winds, you fan the Fire,
And make it higher blaze.

But Friendship's calmer, purer Joy
Thou dost not heighten, but destroy.

poem by Mary Barber
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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