Love.
Portrait of Dante Alighieri in profile view wearing historical dress and a laurel
crown over his cap.
Portrait contained in an oval and superimposed over a rectangle. 1/4 page.
Come, love, I’ll weave a wreath for thee1
Of all things rich and fair,2
A starry crown of costly gems—3
There’s nought for thee too rare ;4
And underneath my coronet5
Shall lurk no haunting care.6
But gems, though bright, are cold and hard,7
Thy head is weary now ;8
Here rest it on my breast, and fling9
Those baubles from thy brow.10
I’ll twine thy wreath of flowers, love,11
They’re fair and soft, I trow.12
Yet flowers die—the sweetest first—13
No fading wreath I’ll weave14
For thee, my brightest, noblest, best,15
On this glad Christmas eve :16
When all around is mirth and joy,17
I would not have thee
grieve.18
My poet’s brow would well become19
The deathless wreath of song,20
And well his stately form be seen21
Fame’s proudest sons among ;22
But lonely oft, and sad, and chill,23
The hearts amid that throng.24
In vain I seek a crown for thee25
Among earth’s choicest things : 26
Her gems are bright, but, oh ! how cold—27
Her purest joys have wings.28
I’ll bind no chaplet on thy brow,29
My own belov’d, that stings.30
In heaven a fair flower sweetly blooms,31
Which never knows decay ;32
’Tis ever fresh, and pure, and bright,33
As on its natal day.34
I’ll twine thy wreath of that sweet flower—35
Love passeth not away.36