  (To H. H. T.) O soul responsive to the subtlest thought That flashes o'er the mind's electric wire, Or ever swept the strings of fancy's lyre To music learned in schools where Shakespeare taught: O thou who knowest the springs whence Sappho caught Love's brimming cup that did her song inspire, Yet dost my plain, unlettered muse admire, Who lived in better days when maidens wrought— To thee, I dedicate my fondest rhymes In memory of happy days of yore, Together on the Cumberland, where Ruth, The charming rustic maid of olden times First won our love, less for her lack of lore, Than for her sweet simplicity and truth. |
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