I. <br /> <br />HAST thou a song for a flower, <br />Such as, if breathed in its ear, <br />Would waken in beauty's own bower <br />The spirit most fit to be there? <br />Then, minstrel, I challenge thy power-- <br />Such song, if thou hast, sing it here!-- <br />Here, where the breeze o'erwearied, <br />With his travel o'er ocean creeps, <br />And on the green leaf by her lattice, <br />Sinks languidly down and sleeps. <br /> <br />II. <br /> <br />For her the sweet music thou bringest <br />Must in a true spirit be wrought, <br />And the passion of mine thou singest <br />Must be pure as the child's first thought. <br />If none such within thee springest, <br />Away, for thy presence is naught. <br />Far better the breeze, at waking, <br />Should tell her that hopeless I come, <br />With itself, to the leaf at her lattice, <br />And laid me down, dreaming but dumb.<br /><br />William Gilmore Simms<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hast-thou-a-song-for-a-flower/
