 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
104
CROWNS.
There are many crowns; the poet's wreath of bays,The warrior's laurel and the monarch's gold,
The twisted sweet rose garlands that enfold
The brow of Beauty—they were wont to praise
In Greece the parsley and the oaken sprays
And the grey sad wild olive we are told,
But if I had my choice I'd choose to hold
As a reward for any tuneful lays
I may have had the grace to sing—a wreath—
A wreath of woven ferns and meadows-sweet—
And if you ask me why, I will not say—
But such a simple crown for me is meet,
And memories lurk therein with golden feet
Bringing back one unforgotten summer day.
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