And assist my feeble rhyme.

Undertaking nothing dearer,

Greater, nothing showeth time.

Here’s the spot where you, awaking,

Taught my infant mind to think;

Even as the morning breaking,

Richer grows to red from pink.

Searched you with me for the treasures,

Culled the blossoms half unblown,

Opened them within my measures,

Letting each bloom as my own.

Lifted to my sight a heaven,

E’en while lying on your breast—

Graciously for it I’ve striven,

Ever hoping for the best.