 | Threescore, and other poems |  |
42
TO MRS. POWEL.
(On receiving from her a covered basket of roses.)
Like the dawn, quick heralding
The sunniest day of spring,
A fragrance brims the sense
From hidden treasure, whence
Blow tidings that express
A punctual friendship's truth and living inwardness.
The sunniest day of spring,
A fragrance brims the sense
From hidden treasure, whence
Blow tidings that express
A punctual friendship's truth and living inwardness.
O the beauty of the roses,
In whose sweet breath reposes,
Mid tender sleeping buds
And color's perfumed floods,
The wealth, and nothing less,
Of dear old friendship's ever-freshened loveliness.
In whose sweet breath reposes,
Mid tender sleeping buds
And color's perfumed floods,
The wealth, and nothing less,
Of dear old friendship's ever-freshened loveliness.
| Threescore, and other poems | |