To H. Mce. K.

Far in Memory's land I roamed to-day, Through fields that into silence stretched away; And lingered where, beneath a sky of blue, My flowers of Friendship grew. Ah, some had faded with the fading years; And some were fresh with dew that seemed like tears; And many had the warm, resplendent glow Of summers long ago. Some were as pale and scentless as the lily That blooms beside my window, when the chilly Wind of November at the casement blows; — And one was like a rose! It was the flower you gave in life's glad spring; As sweet as then its fragrant blossoming; Still in its loveliness to bloom, I said, Though all the rest were dead.