TO ———

I wear thee like an orient jewel, bright Washed upward, dripping from the purple wave;Ne'er dimmed, because 'tis ever morning's light With those who love—such love to thee I gave; My Poet-friend.
Greatest of minstrels! in thy rippling hair Mingles the fadeless bay her life to lend,Not as earth's flowers waste upon the air, Their passion breath—may mine as swiftly end— My Poet-friend.