Classic Poem

De Wilde! 'tis not for thy acknowledged skill
In Languages , though that is something still;
It is not for thy Pencil , though the art,
Ev'n in a stranger, wins from me my heart,
And in a friend has a yet dearer spell,
That doth not only win — it binds as well:
It is not for thy Minstrelsy , though few
More than myself, admire and covet too,
Thy happy muse; nor is it for thy mind,
In which such varied knowledge is enshrined; —
'Tis not for these I love thee, and am proud
To call thee friend, and be as such avowed
By thee, — 'tis for a heart more guileless, true,
Affectionate, and firm, than e'er before I knew.