Poems and Essays

by Joseph Howe


 

THE WREATH.


 

Yes, keep the Wreath, and let it be
    ’Twixt you and me a gentle token
Of sunny hours, spent joyously,
    And merry thoughts, in friendship spoken;

Of bursting buds, and opening Spring,
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    Of flowers round our footsteps wreathing;
Of Robin Red Breasts on the wing,
    And trees balsamic odors breathing.

Of gushing streamlets, winding down
    The mountain sides as we ascended,
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Sparkling their last, before the brown
    And turbid waters with them blended. [Page 164]

Of starlight night, and homeward ride
    Beside the lonely Avon River,
Then keep the Wreath, whate’er betide,
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    And sometimes think upon the giver.

FALMOUTH, May 10. 1869. [Page 165]