 | [Poems by Whittier in] Flora's interpreter : or, The American book of flowers and sentiments |  |
116
Sentiment [I bring no gift of passion]
I bring no gift of passion,
I breathe no tone of love,
But the freshness and the purity
Of a feeling far above.
I love to turn to thee, fair girl,
As one within whose heart
Earth had no stain of vanity,
And fickleness no part.
I breathe no tone of love,
But the freshness and the purity
Of a feeling far above.
I love to turn to thee, fair girl,
As one within whose heart
Earth had no stain of vanity,
And fickleness no part.
O, save to one familiar friend,
Thy heart its veil should wear,
The faithless vow be all unheard,—
The flattery wasted there;
Heeding the homage of the vain
As lightly as some star,
Whose steady radiance changes not,
Though thousands kneel afar.
Thy heart its veil should wear,
The faithless vow be all unheard,—
The flattery wasted there;
Heeding the homage of the vain
As lightly as some star,
Whose steady radiance changes not,
Though thousands kneel afar.
| [Poems by Whittier in] Flora's interpreter : or, The American book of flowers and sentiments | |