That year by year thy honors may increase,
No shadow darken thy prosperity,
Nor treach'rous pitfall mar thy way of peace.
My loving eyes would always joy to see
Thy path lie fair until thy journey cease.



TO A WATER LILY

This is her bed!
Dip the oars lightly,
Guide the craft rightly,
Where her sweet head
Nestles so calmly.

What says her heart,
Fragrant and golden?
In its depths holden,
With maiden art,
Whose image hath she?

Dare I disturb
Fancies so tender,
E'en to surrender?
Better to curb
Self for her peace.

Dream on, my flow'r!
Eyes have caressed thee,