To Ms. C. M. Sedgwick -

O glory-wedded! to thy brow
A coronal is given,
For which, when song and Greece were young,
The very gods had striven.

O, find'st thou not that envied crown
A weary weight, and chilling?
Its lonely glory, is it not
An ice-touch, heartward thrilling?

Ah, no! e'en now a rosy light
Those vernal leaves is flushing;
O woman-hearted, love's warm buds
Are 'mid thy laurels blushing!

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