Classic Poem

My Lady ,—Gold and silver rust,
And diamonds wear away to dust;
These three alone eternal prove,
In earth below and heaven above,—
Faith, hope, and love.

This vase, by Benvenuto wrought,
This coronal of gold,
These diamonds, from Golconda brought,
Will tarnish and grow old.
Such gifts as these my lady's friend
In proof of friendship scorns to send;
He sends what will eternal prove,
Though rolling worlds forget to move,—
A faithful servant's hopeful love.