A VALENTINE.
Reading edition
If but the furry catkin small Could speak with gentle voice And bid the sad, Rejoice! A pussy-willow should be all My valentine. If but the golden daffodil, With many a cheerful word, Could tell what it hath heard By meadow, wood, or murmuring rill, It should be mine. If but the valley-lilies pure Could whisper in thine ear A message thou wouldst hear, Of One whose promises are sure, Whose love divine, Such flowers my valentine should be. Yet sought I none of those,— Only one crimson rose To bear its Maker’s heart to thee,— Lo, it is thine!
