Classic Poem

Thanks for the gift whose gilded edges glow,
Whose pencilled landscapes far-off beauty show:
For years to come, if years to come be mine,
Friendship's sweet halo shall around it shine;
And every piece shall speak to me of thee,
Who kindly sped the welcome gift to me.

I shall recall the mention of thy sire,
Revered and reverend, who, with holy fire
From shrines all holy, spoke to men of God,
And beckoned them to tread the path he trod,
Whose flowers and thorns to virtue led the soul,
Whose end was joy while pauseless ages roll.

When from these cups the Oriental draught,
With eager haste, my willing lips shall quaff,
Sweet as the cane whose essence shall be there
Will come the memory of thy friendly care;
And in the harmless cup which only cheers,
I'll drink to thee, — God bless thy future years!

God give thee health, and grant that e'er on thee
Each wrinkle shall a line of beauty be,
Which Time may place upon the mortal brow,
Till death shall bid thy soul with seraphs bow,
And the long pilgrimage of earth be done,
Life's final battle fought, and victory won.

God bless both thee and thine till we shall drink
A sweeter draught than earth's from the fair brink
Of that fair river flowing soft, serene,
Where healing leaves and precious fruit are seen,
And all the sin-freed host rejoice for aye
In the pure splendor of celestial day.