Poems (McDonald)/Thanks for a Boquet

by Mary Noel McDonald

THANKS FOR A BOQUET.

to s. r.

Thanks for thy gift, my gentle friend,
 Thy lovely gift of blushing flowers;
Methinks a voice amid them, tells
 Of smiling skies, and sunny hours;
Thy treasured offering's sweet perfume,
 Bears me in fancy far away
To gardens redolent of bloom,
 And all the charms of summer day:
The zephyr breaths to fan my brow,
That come but with my fancy now.

But not alone of smiling skies,
 Or zephyr's fragrant breath they tell;
A tone they have, which more I prize
 Than painted leaf, or perfumed belle;
They whisper me, these blushing flowers,
 That Friendship culled the fresh boquet,
To cheer the sick one's languid hours,
 And cheat the weary time away.
They whisper, kindness, sympathy,
Have yet a home, dear friend, with thee.

Ah! well I love their pleasant tones,
 Perchance unheard by other ears;
But to my listening heart they speak,
 My heart their silent language hears.
Then let me thank thee for thy gift,
 Thy blooming gift of fragrant flowers;
They come like angel visitants,
 To cheer my sick one's languid hours,
And on each leaf can fancy frame
The letters of thy gentle name.