At A Birthday Festival

TO J. R. LOWELL WE will not speak of years to-night,-- For what have years to bring But larger floods of love and light, And sweeter songs to sing? We will not drown in wordy praise The kindly thoughts that rise; If Friendship own one tender phrase, He reads it in our eyes. We need not waste our school-boy art To gild this notch of Time;-- Forgive me if my wayward heart Has throbbed in artless rhyme. Enough for him the silent grasp That knits us hand in hand, And he the bracelet's radiant clasp That locks our circling band. Strength to his hours of manly toil! Peace to his starlit dreams! Who loves alike the furrowed soil, The music-haunted streams! Sweet smiles to keep forever bright The sunshine on his lips, And faith that sees the ring of light Round nature's last eclipse! February 22, 1859.