TO MY FRIENDS. SHALL this an emblem be of that blue sky Wherein are set the golden stars of song? Ah, vain the question! 'Tis enough to know And touched the garments of the laurelled dead. You, also, Friends, that wear the Artist's crown, Your love upholds me in the silent days, And in the tuneful nights I give to Art; These leaves are yours, to whom their speech betrays CEDARCROFT, May, 1864. B. T. |