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l'envoi.
A streamlet laughing in the sun
Is all a busy world may hear,—
The deepest fountains of my soul
Send up their murmurs to thine ear.
Is all a busy world may hear,—
The deepest fountains of my soul
Send up their murmurs to thine ear.
There are to whom these lays shall come,
Like strains that skylarks downward send;
But, ah, no higher than thy heart
They sing to thee, belovèd friend!
Like strains that skylarks downward send;
But, ah, no higher than thy heart
They sing to thee, belovèd friend!
For in thy manhood pure and strong,
With thy great soul, thy fresh young heart,
Thou livest my ideal life,
And what I only dream, thou art.
With thy great soul, thy fresh young heart,
Thou livest my ideal life,
And what I only dream, thou art.
The Grecian youth whose name thou bear'st,—
Who nightly with the billows strove,
And through the wild seas cleaved his way
To the dear bosom of his love,—
Who nightly with the billows strove,
And through the wild seas cleaved his way
To the dear bosom of his love,—
Ne'er bore a braver soul than thine,
When yawned great deeps, and storm-clouds frowned
Nor lifted up, amid the waves,
A brow with loftier beauty crowned.
When yawned great deeps, and storm-clouds frowned
Nor lifted up, amid the waves,
A brow with loftier beauty crowned.
