I've sought the city o'er to find
Dearest! a fitting gift for thee;
In vain! There's nothing to my mind,
Of all the tasteful things I see.

'Tis not that works of taste and art,
Books, pictures, jewels, I despise;
These have their uses, and impart
Some pleasure, even to the wise.

But these are trifles to my thought,
When this full heart would fondly prove,
What price by years it hath been taught
To set on thy pure, faithful love.

Each gift most beautiful and rare,
Seems all unequal to express
The fervent gratitude I bear,
For all thy life-long tenderness!

To every year that speeds its flight,
Each must 'tis said some grace resign;
But flying years, to my pleased sight,
Add grace to every charm of thine.

Thy riper judgment, richer mind,
Enlarged experience, firmer will,
Leave no regrets for days behind,
But bless and satisfy me still.

Time the arch-robber hath no power
To steal thy solid worth away;
He cannot touch thy peerless dower
Of virtues that know not decay.

My heart's best offering, dearest, take;
Its changeless love, its steady trust;
'Tis thine till earth's last tie shall break;
And I shall sleep in silent dust.

Aye, where immortal life shall glow,
Where endless years serenely glide,
Firm is my faith that I shall know
Thee as my fair, IMMORTAL BRIDE !