L’envoi Poem by Grace Greenwood

I KNOW these lays will come to thee
Like flowers along thy pathway strown,
And wear, to thy young, generous eyes,
A grace and beauty not their own.

Thou know'st they spring where deepest shade
And blinding sunlight are at strife, —
Faint blooms and frail, — yet bearing thee
Sweet breathings from my inmost life.

Or come like waters, leaping out
From shadowy places to the day,
To catch heaven's brightness on their waves,
And freshen earth along their way.

A streamlet laughing in the sun
Is all a busy world may hear, —
The deepest fountains of my soul
Send up their murmurs to thine ear.

There are to whom these lays shall come,
Like strains that skylarks downward send;
But, ah, no higher than thy heart
They sing to thee, belovèd friend!

For in thy manhood pure and strong,
With thy great soul, thy fresh young heart,
Thou livest my ideal life,
And what I only dream, thou art.

The Grecian youth whose name thou bear'st, —
Who nightly with the billows strove,
And through the wild seas cleaved his way
To the dear bosom of his love, —

Ne'er bore a braver soul than thine,
When yawned great deeps, and storm-clouds frowned,
Nor lifted up, amid the waves,
A brow with loftier beauty crowned.

The poet's rare and wondrous gifts
In thee await their triumph-hour, —
There sleep within thy dreamy eyes
The mighty secrets of his power.

Thy heart with one high throb can rise
His fair, heroic dreams above, —
There breathes more passion in thy voice
Than in a thousand lays of love.

Ah, know'st thou not the while thou deem'st
The poet's mission most divine,
Life's grand, unwritten poetry
Goes out from natures such as thine?

What though it falleth brokenly
And faintly on the world's dull ear, —
Though clamorous voices cry it down,
To God it rises, pure and clear!

It cometh as a service glad, —
A music all as full and sweet
As though the stars hymned forth their joy,
And rolled their anthems to His feet.

When, like the Grecian youth, thou seest
The midnight tempests gather round, —
When storm-clouds seem to flood the heavens,
And all the starry lights are drowned, —

Upborne by angel-hands, mayst thou
Through life's wild sea right onward sweep,
To where Hope's signal lights the night,
And Love stands watching by the deep!