 | Sungleams |  |
51
XXXV. A DAUGHTER'S LOVE.
A daughter's love—what symbol rare
Can with its preciousness compare?
'Tis like the clinging eglantine,
Whose odorous summer-wreaths entwine
An ancient oak-tree gnarled and bare.
Can with its preciousness compare?
'Tis like the clinging eglantine,
Whose odorous summer-wreaths entwine
An ancient oak-tree gnarled and bare.
Or when, with waving blossoms fair,
The wild-rose scents the morning air,
I welcome, in the fragrance fine,
A daughter's love.
The wild-rose scents the morning air,
I welcome, in the fragrance fine,
A daughter's love.
'Tis like the clusters of the vine,
Which warm the heart with purple wine,
Soothing the furrowed brow of Care:
'Tis like all sweet things everywhere,
Which can but hint—when they combine—
A daughter's love.
Which warm the heart with purple wine,
Soothing the furrowed brow of Care:
'Tis like all sweet things everywhere,
Which can but hint—when they combine—
A daughter's love.
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