64
LINES
TO A. M. L.
ND now accept once more from me,This careless work of cheerful hours,
The wreath which I have twined for thee,
Of youth's green leaves and spring-time flowers.
And though its sweets may prove but few,
Wilt thou not look with gentle eye
On these wild flowers of varied hue,
These opening buds of poesy?
Wilt thou not look with gentle eye
On these wild flowers of varied hue,
These opening buds of poesy?
I know thou wilt, for thou hast seen
The fairest spring to life for thee,
And long thy kindly glance hath been
The meed of praise most dear to me.
The fairest spring to life for thee,
And long thy kindly glance hath been
The meed of praise most dear to me.
Then take the gift,—at least its flowers,
In part the fruit of days gone by,
May wake for thee the thought of hours
Still bright to Memory's pensive eye.
In part the fruit of days gone by,
May wake for thee the thought of hours
Still bright to Memory's pensive eye.
And if from dreams to poets dear,
Too oft fair truth neglected flies,
Oh! still believe, recorded here
Full many a heart-warm feeling lies.
Too oft fair truth neglected flies,
Oh! still believe, recorded here
Full many a heart-warm feeling lies.
