May friends increase; may none betray; May love perpetual give you light, And hope bring days that fear no night; While peace of mind makes all things bright. Such prayers of heart and soul I send To greet your day of birth, dear friend! MAY your morning of life be fresh and fair, S. C. HALL. TO MY DAUGHTER. So may'st thou live, dear! many years, In all the bliss that life endears, Not without smiles, nor yet from tears Too strictly kept : When first thy infant littleness I folded in my fond caress, The greatest proof of happiness THOMAS HOOD. Poetical Works. (Ward, Lock, and Co.) YOUR birthday! Take the flowers I bring: S. C. HALL. MAIDEN, when such a soul as thine is born, The morning stars their ancient music make, And, joyful, once again their song awake, Long silent now with melancholy scorn; And thou, not mindless of so blest a morn, By no least deed its harmony shalt break, But shalt to that high chime thy footsteps take, Through life's most darksome passes unforlorn ; Therefore from thy pure faith thou shalt not fall, Therefore shalt thou be ever fair and free, And in thine every motion musical As summer air, majestic as the sea, A mystery to those who creep and crawl Through Time, and part it from Eternity. J. R. LOWELL. Poetical Works. (Ward, Lock, and Co.) THY Birthday is it, Friend? Well, art thou sad Is the way rough and thorny to thy feet, sweet, "Be not afraid, for I thy Lord am near, To guide and guard thee till thy journey's o'er, A BIRTHDAY SONG. WHAT shall I say to my dearest dear, On the sweetest day of the whole sweet year? Shall I tell her how dainty she is and sweet, From her golden head to her silver feet? Love of my loves, shall I say to her Till the breeze catch tune and the birds repeat The chime of my song-thou art bright and rare, (Eyes of the gray and amber hair) Who is so white as my love, my sweet? Who is so sweet and fair? Ah, no! for my song would faint and die, For a kiss of her lips so clear and red, And even the words, if words there were said, Would fail for the sound of her lovely name, Till the very birds should flout them to shame, That they strove to render silver with lead, To image with snow the flame! |