Classic Poem

Sweet blossoms many and fair I sought to bring;
Some plucked in hedges, some in wild wet woods,—
Some gathered in weird pathless solitudes
Where the lone eagle is unquestioned king.
I wove for thee the supple stems that cling
Round garden-bowers; strange splendid flowers I brought
From tropic lands,—through English vales I sought,
And through the groves where English throstles sing.

All these I wove, my lady, in a crown
For thee—thee only,—if so I might add
To thy fair fame and glory, and make thee glad
With some fresh token of a wide renown:—
Yet then I thought enough had not been given,
And sought to bring thee roses culled in heaven.