AT A BIRTHDAY FESTIVAL

WE will not speak of years to-night,—

For what have years to bring

But larger floods of love and light,

And sweeter songs to sing?

We will not drown in wordy praise

The kindly thoughts that rise;

If Friendship own one tender phrase,

He reads it in our eyes.

We need not waste our school-boy art

To gild this notch of Time;—

Forgive me if my wayward heart

Has throbbed in artless rhyme.

Enough for him the silent grasp

That knits us hand in hand,

And he the bracelet's radiant clasp

That locks our circling band.

Strength to his hours of manly toil!

Peace to his starlit dreams!

Who loves alike the furrowed soil,

The music-haunted streams!

Sweet smiles to keep forever bright

The sunshine on his lips,

And faith that sees the ring of light

Round nature's last eclipse!