And now to you he brings
A treasure to keep and love,
From the north-land home of the old sea kings,—
A beautiful Danish Dove!
I heard proud Ocean’s waves,
England’s and Denmark’s slaves,
Tell it in all the caves
That peep through the wall of your Island-garden!
Then welcome her sweetly, Roses,
She shall nestle among you soon,
And shall be to the loved of him whom you loved
In sorrow a priceless boon!
IV.
Winds that sport with the sea,
Go east, west, south and north,
And from every Rose of the English tree
That remembers its English birth
Carry from far and wide
A gentle message of love
To the lone Rose-queen and her garden’s pride,
And his beautiful Danish Dove.
TO A SNOWBIRD.
I.
O gentle little comer
In wintry days,
Far more than songs of summer
I love thy lays.
They come when flowers are sweetest,
And leaves are green;
But thou thy song repeatest
In sterner scene.
II.
In joyous days are many
The friends we find;
In dark ones scarcely any,
To soothe the mind.
But friends in hours of sorrow
Far more we prize
Than those that go to-morrow
If storms arise.