The Catholic bids fair saints befriend him,
Your poet’s heart is Catholic too;
His rosary shall be flowers ye send him,
His saints’ days when he visits you.
And my sere laurels for my duty,
Miraculous at your touch would rise;
Could I give verse one trait of beauty
Like that which glads me from your eyes.
Unsealed by you these lips have spoken,
Disused to song for many a day,