A wreath of flowers, not scentless all, nor wild,
Though few may challenge the fastidious eye—
From Life’s rough wayside gathered hastily,
On which a cloudless sun hath seldom smiled,
I lay before thee, by the thought beguiled
That thou the humble offering wilt accept—
For well I ween thy heart hath truly kept
The love it bore me when an artless child.
Playmate—companion—counsellor—and friend—
Brother by blood, and doubly so in heart!
Changeless through every change to me thou art—
And as our souls have blended, so shall blend
Our names upon this page, that it may be
A witness of thy worth, and of my love for thee!
