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TO SARAH WHITMAN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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TO SARAH WHITMAN

From Nature's precious quarry sought,
By hands untiring slowly wrought,
Behold the smooth translucent sphere,
As friendship's pledge made doubly dear!
What stone so clear has mortal found?
What figure like its faultless round?
All else must try some flaw to screen,—
But here perfection's self is seen.
Come thou, my birth-day's fair surprise,
And fill with light my fading eyes!
Close to the clock thy place shall be,—
The clock that chimes “Remember me!”
Thrice welcome, blessed, beauteous gift!
Thy silent speech our souls shall lift
Like thee unchanging to endure
Full-orbed, forever bright and pure.