TO J. S. B.
On seeing her December 25th, 1904, after two years' travel.
Take, fair maid, these simple lines
From my pen;
Think of strollings 'neath the pines,
Which have been—
Long and lonesome were the days
We were apart,
But may Love, now, have her sways,—
Bind heart to heart!
O'er main to isle and back to land
Have I been;
Beheld on either hand
A maiden queen:
But none with captivating charms
Like thine;
None to nestle in her arms,
Love of mine!
Charms unto thee God gave
To banish strife;
To glorify and save
One sweet life—
Take this, dear, before we part
From this bliss;
'Tis but love flowing from my heart,
Thine to kiss!
THE MAYOR'S RING
I hold a token in my hand,
A very tiny thing;
And yet within its golden band
A thousand memories cling.
Aye! thrice ten thousand memories cling
Of signal victories won,
Enshrined within this little ring,
Reward of duty done.
I ever shall this token prize,
And wear it with true grace—
The tie that binds the kindred ties
Of friendship race to race.
And when I soar full through the skies,
Yet ever will I cling
Within the gates of Paradise
This sacred little ring!