Classic Poem

They've decked her maiden loveliness,
With robes of pride and gaudy art;
But more I prize the simple dress,
In which she won my youthful heart:
For oh, it brings those hours anew,
When life was like a dream of joy,
When she was all I thought her, true,
And I a happy careless boy.

And o'er her brow of radiant white,
And clustered in her dark brown hair,
Are gems of gold and pearly light,
That shine like stars emblazoned there:
But oh, more dear than gold or pearls,
Are these pale withered token-flowers,
Which once adorned her glittering curls,
And still recall those happier hours.