Part 1 — SWEET-BRIER.

Tender of words should singer be, Sweet-Brier, who would tell of thee; One who has drunk with eager lip And treasured thy companionship; One who has sought thee far and wide, In early dew, with morning pride; To whom thou art no new-made friend, Whose memories on thy breath attend. For such thou art a lemon-grove, Where wandering orient odors rove,— Yet loyal ever to thy home, The valley where the north winds roam. Sometimes I would call thee mine; But sweeter far than mine or thine To listen unto Nature's song, Saying, To lovers all belong. I love thee for my greenest days Rescued from Time at thy sweet gaze, For pictures brilliant as the Spring Brought back upon thy breathing wing. I love thee for thy influence, Heart-honey, without impotence; He who would reach thy virgin blush, Like warrior bold, must dangers crush. Chiefly I love thee for thyself, Wealth-giver, ignorant of pelf; Fain would I learn thy upright ways And heart thus redolent of praise.