To M. D. B. On the present of a pen.
Dear sister, words cannot express
To you my heartfelt thankfulness;
Or with what pleasure I behold
This precious gift—a pen of gold.
I prize it more, while now I see
In it remembrance kind of me;
Which fills me with delight untold
In viewing my new pen of gold.
And thee, at morn and evening tide,
As past the fleeting moments glide,
Shall I remember, while I hold
Within my grasp this pen of gold.
With newer zeal I now would write,
Dispensing nought but truth and light;
And richer treasures fain unfold,
The products of my pen of gold.
And when our weary task is done,
The conflict o’er, the victory won,
May we be found of finest mold,
As tried, refined, and pure as gold.