A Birth-Day Tribute (To C.B.)

Among these heart-gifts is there room for mine?
Or may I dare, with stammering utterance,
Give to weak words the thoughts by thee inspired?
If all of best in what I wish for thee,
If all of grandest in my hope for thee,
If all of tenderest in my love for thee
Could be translated into verse of mine,
Then verse of mine should thus be worthy thee,
And tell how good the good I ask for thee,
How grand the hope I dare to hope for thee.
How reverent the love I keep for thee,
How childly credent my true faith in thee;
And the sweet thought that is its rhythmic soul,
Wedded to rhythmic words as subtle sweet,
Should make its music as the chime of stars
When they all sing together, keeping time
To the glad shoutings of the sons of God!
Vain the desire, the aspiration vain,
To link the passion of my inmost life,
The subtlest thoughts that breathe within my soul
To outward speech; the faltering syllables
Sink into silence, when they fain would give 
Expression to the faith so full of thee. 
No verse can reach the level of thy worth, 
Nor voice the homage my heart pays to thee, 
Nor sum the trust that finds response in thee. 
And growing thus to tenderest reverence, 
Gives to my soul the seal of sanctity. 
Let it content me, therefore, that thy heart 
Can read the wordless mystery of mine; 
And, made through love interpreter of love, 
Know all the sweetness of my thought, 
And how that thought is vital with my faith, 
And how that faith says "I believe in thee."