 | Poems |  |
100
THE OFFERING.
PRESENTED TO ---
“I lay it as the rose is laid,
On some immortal shrine.”
L. E. L.
On some immortal shrine.”
L. E. L.
What shall I offer thee, lady fair?
Flowers for thy bosom, or gems for thy hair?
Now is the rose in its richest bloom,
Borne on the winds is its sweet perfume;
Now is the lily, with white brow bare,
Bending in grace to the glowing air;
Beauteous the hues of their bright array,
Beauteous, but destined to swift decay,
And all too sad were the loveliest wreath,
Woven with emblems of early death.
No flowers for thee!
Flowers for thy bosom, or gems for thy hair?
Now is the rose in its richest bloom,
Borne on the winds is its sweet perfume;
Now is the lily, with white brow bare,
Bending in grace to the glowing air;
Beauteous the hues of their bright array,
Beauteous, but destined to swift decay,
101
Woven with emblems of early death.
No flowers for thee!
Far, far away, where soft winds sweep
O'er the sunny isles of the Indian deep,
Where the orient myrrh-tree sheds its balm,
And maidens dance 'neath the spreading palm,
In mines, that sunbeam hath never kiss'd,
Are diamond, and emerald, and amethyst;
But not upon thee may their radiance stream,
Have not thy tresses their own bright gleam?
Not on thy brow may their lustre lie,
They would sully its spotless purity,
No gems for thee!
O'er the sunny isles of the Indian deep,
Where the orient myrrh-tree sheds its balm,
And maidens dance 'neath the spreading palm,
In mines, that sunbeam hath never kiss'd,
Are diamond, and emerald, and amethyst;
But not upon thee may their radiance stream,
Have not thy tresses their own bright gleam?
Not on thy brow may their lustre lie,
They would sully its spotless purity,
No gems for thee!
Then what shall I offer thee, lady fair?
Scorn not the gift, 'tis a simple prayer,
That flowers and gems may be thine unsought,
The flowers of hope, and the gems of thought;
The beautiful feelings of early youth,
Its warm affections, its holy truth,
All the sweet magic of life's first dream,
All gentle fancies, that most beseem
A guileless bosom—may these be thine,
Flowers, the most fragrant—gems, most divine,
These, are for thee!
Scorn not the gift, 'tis a simple prayer,
That flowers and gems may be thine unsought,
The flowers of hope, and the gems of thought;
102
Its warm affections, its holy truth,
All the sweet magic of life's first dream,
All gentle fancies, that most beseem
A guileless bosom—may these be thine,
Flowers, the most fragrant—gems, most divine,
These, are for thee!
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