Classic Poem

Bright as the dew, on early buds that glistens,
Sparkles each hope upon thy flower-strewn path;
Gay as a bird to its new mate that listens,
Be to thy soul each winged joy it hath;
Thy lot still lead through ever-blooming bowers,
And Time for ever talk to thee in flowers.

Adored in youth, while yet the summer roses
Of glowing girlhood bloom upon thy cheek,
And, loved not less when fading, there reposes
The lily, that of springtime past doth speak.
Ne'er from Life's garden to be rudely riven,
But softly stolen away from Earth to Heaven.