Classic Poem

Laura is the first to seek
March-rime in the woodland bleak;
First to mourn the aster's death,
Withered by November's breath;
Every glade and glen she knows,
Where the coy spring-beauty grows;
Adder's-tongues for her unfold
Fairy bells of pearl and gold;
She and April, comrades boon,
Hail the early-crowned puccoon;
In the dingle lone she sees
Tremulous anemones;
From the breast of June she takes
Columbines and plumy brakes;
Not a daisy she'll forget,
Nor the humblest violet.

Lilies proud, on stately stalks,
Bow to greet her where she walks;
Roses to her pathway lean,
Queens saluting lovelier queen,
Emulous to win her eyes,
Rivals for self-sacrifice!
Joyful the elected flower
Which may triumph one brief hour,
Mingled with the clustered few,
Musical in form and hue!
Thus do notes that singly please
Join in cordant melodies;
So do gathered fancies twine
Graceful in the rhythmic line;—
Like a perfect lyric lay,
Laura's exquisite bouquet.