University of Virginia Library

IMPROMPTUS

I—TO F. F. C. ON THE PANSY, HER CLASS FLOWER

This is the flower of thought;
Take it, thou empress of a land
Of true hearts, from a loyal subject's hand;
And with it naught,
O, naught beneath life's ever-brightening dome
Of sad remembrance! May it bring
Dreams of joy only, and of happy days
Backward and still to come;
Of birds that sang last eve, and still shall sing
In dawns of morrows only joyful lays.
Or yet, if thou shouldst go
Not utterly unscathed of mortal woe—
Thy blackest hour be touched by memory's gold,
As is this flower's leaf. Then shalt thou hold
Ever a young heart in thee, ever as now
A look of quenchless youth beneath thy peerless brow.

II—ART

Following the sun, westward the march of power!
The Rose of Might blooms in our new-world mart:
But see, just bursting forth from bud to flower,—
A late, slow growth,—the fairer Rose of Art.

III—TO A SOUTHERN GIRL

Sweet rose that bloomed on the red field of war,
Think not too sadly of the dreadful Past!
Are not old foes new friends—not least, tho' last,
One whose far home lies 'neath yon Northern star?

IV—FOR A FAN

Each of us answers to a call;
Master or mistress have we all.
I belong to lovely Anne;
Dost thou not wish thou wert a fan?
Thus to be treasured, thus to be prest,
Pleasuring thus, and thus carest?

V—TO T. B. A.

IN ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF A BOOK OF PROSE

Your pretty book doth please me,
Of carks and cares doth ease me;
But don't forget, my boy,
Verse is your true employ.
And surely, Thomas Bailey,
In all this new-world mêlée
Too seldom comes the poet,
And when he does we know it!
Yes, no one else can do
The work that's play to you.
So spend your precious time in
Your master art of rhymin',
Then shall you keep the praise
Of these and future days.

VI—A THEME

“Give me a theme,” the little poet cried,
“And I will do my part.”
“'T is not a theme you need,” the world replied,
“You need a heart.”

VII—THE CHRISTMAS TREE IN THE NURSERY

(FOR F. AND R.)