Classic Poem

And can my simple harp be strung
To higher theme, to nobler end,
Than that of gratitude to thee,
To thee, my father and my friend?

I may not, cannot, will not say
All that a grateful heart would breathe;
But I may frame a simple lay,
Nor Slander blight the blushing wreath.

Yes, I will touch the string to thee,
Nor fear its wildness will offend;
For well I know that thou wilt be,
What thou hast ever been — a friend.

There are, whose cold and idle gaze
Would freeze the current where it flows;
But Gratitude shall guard the fount,
And Faith shall light it as it flows.

Then tell me, may I dare to twine,
While o'er my simple harp I bend,
This little offering for thee,
For thee, my father, and my friend?