Classic Poem

Yes, keep the Wreath, and let it be
'Twixt you and me a gentle token
Of sunny hours, spent joyously,
And merry thoughts, in friendship spoken;

Of bursting buds, and opening Spring,
Of flowers round our footsteps wreathing;
Of Robin Red Breasts on the wing,
And trees balsamic odors breathing.

Of gushing streamlets, winding down
The mountain sides as we ascended,
Sparkling their last, before the brown
And turbid waters with them blended.

Of starlight night, and homeward ride
Beside the lonely Avon River,
Then keep the Wreath, whate'er betide,
And sometimes think upon the giver.

Yes, keep the Wreath, and let it be
'Twixt you and me a gentle token
Of sunny hours, spent joyously,
And merry thoughts, in friendship spoken;

Of bursting buds, and opening Spring,
Of flowers round our footsteps wreathing;
Of Robin Red Breasts on the wing,
And trees balsamic odors breathing.

Of gushing streamlets, winding down
The mountain sides as we ascended,
Sparkling their last, before the brown
And turbid waters with them blended.

Of starlight night, and homeward ride
Beside the lonely Avon River,
Then keep the Wreath, whate'er betide,
And sometimes think upon the giver.