To ----, with flowers

            Go, ye sweet messengers,
                To that dim-lighted room,
        Where lettered wisdom from the walls
                Sheds a delightful gloom;
            Where sits in thought profound,
                One in the noon of life,
        Whose flashing eye and fevered brow
                Tell of the inward strife;
            Who in those wells of lore,
                Seeks for the pearls of truth,
        And to Ambition's fever dream
                Gives his repose and youth.
            To him, sweet ministers,
                Ye shall a lesson teach, --
        Go in your fleeting loveliness
                More eloquent than speech.
            Tell him in laurel wreaths
                No perfume e'er is found,
        And that upon a crown of thorns
                Those leaves are ever bound.
            Thoughts fresh as your own hues
                Bear ye to that abode, --
        Speak of the sunshine and the sky,
                Of Nature and of God.

This work was published before January 1, 1926, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.