Thy face, my friend, is beauty-pale, And doth a slender sweet exhale, And here is but a homely vale, And fancy draws No dearness out of song or tale, In thine applause; And some there are who only prize The blossoms wooed from foreign skies, In odors drenched and dewy dyes, But thou shalt be Companion to my fonder eyes, And kin to me. When I shall praise a flower the more Because its gilded portals pour The sweetness of a foreign shore, I’ll jog with those Who drop the rhyme’s laborious oar, And flow in prose. All themes that Love and Honor use, All tender, soul-inspiring views, And all the raptures of the muse, Howe’er we roam, Like the sweet Grace that shuns abuse Begin at home. And where my steps are frequent led— In beaten haunts—where’er I tread, Are seeds of wit and wisdom spread, That not abound, Only because my heart and head Are stony ground. Thou claimant of a mutual birth Poor kinsman of a fickle hearth, Flower of the bleak New England earth, I cannot deem Your modest crown so little worth In my esteem. When spring returning, odor-sweet, Touches the turf with tinsel feet, Thy fresh rosette once more we meet, By sun or shade, Like Joy to smiles, with generous greet, Or just displayed. But soon thy little youth is gone, Thy ample-headed age comes on, And thou a standing wig dost don, Of seedy hair, Frayed by the winds, till bald as stone, Thy skull is bare. Ye sacred, sweet, sonorous Nine— Dear Floras of the bowers divine— Should Age discrown my sable twine Of hairy weed, Give me to say—This pate of mine Has gone to seed. * * * * * WHY DO I WEEP FOR THEE? WORDS BY GEORGE LINLEY. COMPOSED BY W. V. WALLACE. SUNG BY MISS CATHARINE HAYES. Published by permission of Lee & Walker, 162 Chestnut Street, _Publishers and Importers of Music and Musical Instruments_. [Illustration: musical score] Why do I weep for thee? Why weep in my sad dreams? Parted for aye are we, Yes! parted like mountain streams. [Illustration: musical score continued] Yet with me lingers still That word, that one last word, Thy voice, thy voice yet seems to thrill The heart’s fond chord. Why do I weep for thee? Why do I weep for thee? II.