 | At the holy well |  |
BIRTHDAY WISHES.
To H. C. G. Completing Her Eighty-Fourth Year.
Take this poor song for one I fain would bringTo grace your birthday, worthier offering.
What shall I wish? New years like those you see,
Whose sunken suns shine soft, in memory?
Yes, these, if Heaven vouchsafe. But with them may
New flowers rise, sweetening, as of old, their way,
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Whose breath is life's best perfume, fortune, wealth;
Hope, too, who brightens all dark paths before—
An angel looking through an open door
Of cloud; and Faith, who in your gentle hand
Puts the sure key-flower of the Lovelier Land.
March 30, 1882.
| At the holy well | |