FORTY-SEVEN

A Riddle

My first is valued more than gold,

Because ’tis seldom found;

Many there be, that name do hold,

With whom ’tis nought but sound.

My second sails the skimming flood,

And makes a sight full fair;

Its fabric is of carven wood,

And its motion springs from air.

My whole, mid life’s distressing cares,

Is company, sweet and kind;

Happy who call this blessing theirs –

But few that solace find.