EDITH! I brought thee late a humble gift, The songs of earlier youth; it was a wreath With many an unripe blossom garlanded And many a weed, yet mingled with some flowers That will not wither. Now, my love, I bring A worthier offering; thou wilt value it, For well thou knowest it is a work that sooth'd Times of hard care and strange inquietude, With most sweet solace: and though to mine ear There is no music in the hollowness Of common praise, yet I am well content To think that I have past in such employ The green and vigorous season of my mind, And hope that there are those in whom the song Has woke some not unprofitable thoughts. ROBERT SOUTHEY. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRIDAL SONG by GEORGE CHAPMAN (1559-1634) DESERT WIFE by NELLIE COOLEY ALDER HATED by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE DESCENDANT AND THE ID (MONOLOGUE IN REGARD TO HEREDITY) by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH CAUTION by FRANCES BROWN (20TH CENTURY) AMONG THE TREES by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |