0 heart of mine—if I were but a swallow—
A thing so fearless, swift of flight, and free—
On wings unwearied I would find and follow
Some path that led to thee!
Were I a rose out in the garden growing
My sweetness I would give the vagrant breeze
For he, perchance, might meet thee all unknowing—
Yet bring thee memories.
THE TOAST
A toast to thee, 0 dear old year,
While the last moments fly,
A toast to thy sweet memory—
We'll lift the glasses high,
And bid to thee a fond farewell
As thou art passing by!
A toast to those who reaped success
In this good year of grace;
A toast to every one of them—
Come! Give the victors place!
Come, wish them well with right good will—
The winners in the race!
And one toast more! To those who failed
Wherever they may be;—
With faces white they fought the fight,
But missed the victory;
So here's to them—the ones who strove—
On land and on the sea!
Fair dreams to thee, 0 grey old year,
Thy working time is done,
And gone for thee the silver moon,
And golden noon-day sun;
Yet sad old year—and glad old year—
We'll know no better one.
THE SEA-SHELL
Oh, fairy palace of pink and pearl
Frescoed with filigree silver-white,
Down in the silence beneath the sea
God by Himself must have fashioned thee
Just for His own delight!
But no!—For a dumb and shapeless thing
Stirring in darkness its little hour,
Thy walls were built with infinite care,
Thou sea-scented home, so fine and fair,
Perfect—and like a flower!