ith blossomed bowers, In superfluous zeal bestowing Gifts where gifts are overflowing, So I pay the debt I'm owing. To thy full thoughts, gay or sad, Sunny-hued or sober clad, Something of my own I add; Well assured that thou wilt take Even the offering which I make Kindly for the giver's sake.
Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allinson of Burlington, New Jersey. You scarcely need my tardy thanks, Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend– A green leaf on your own Green Banks— The memory of your friend. For me, no wreath, bloom-woven, hides The sobered brow and lessening hair: For aught I know, the myrtled sides Of Helicon are bare. Their scallop-shells so many bring The fabled founts of song to try, They've drained, for aught I know, the spring Of Aganippe dry. Ah well!—The wreath the Muses braid Proves often Folly's cap and bell; Methinks, my ample beaver's shade May serve my turn as well. Let Love's and Friendship's tender debt Be paid by those I love i<