If I have graced no single song of mine <br />With thy sweet name, they all are full of thee; <br />Thou art my Muse, my 'May', my 'Madeline': <br />But 'Julia'! -- ah! that gentle name to me <br />Is something far too sacred for the throng <br />Of worldly listeners 'round me. Yet ev'n now <br />I weave a chaplet for thy sinless brow; -- <br />Wilt thou not wear it? 'T is a fashionable song, -- <br />I will not say of what, -- but on it I <br />Have wreaked heart, mind, my love, my hopes of fame, <br />Yet after all it hath no nobler aim <br />Than thy dear praise. Ere many moons pass by, <br />When the lost gem is set, the crown complete, <br />I'll lay a poet's tribute at thy feet.<br /><br />Henry Timrod<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xvi-6/
