 | The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman |  |
ON WHITE CARNATIONS GIVEN ME FOR MY BIRTHDAY
Exquisite tufts of perfume and of light,
Fair gift of Summer unto Autumn borne,
Were but the years ye calendar as white,
As sweet, as you, Age could not be forlorn.
Fair gift of Summer unto Autumn borne,
Were but the years ye calendar as white,
As sweet, as you, Age could not be forlorn.
Yet, beauteous symbols of my only gain—
Love, portioned from your givers' envied share,
Honor, whose laurel at their feet hath lain—
Make me this night of Life's waste unaware!
Love, portioned from your givers' envied share,
Honor, whose laurel at their feet hath lain—
Make me this night of Life's waste unaware!
October 8, 1894.
| The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman | |