Hope has her emblem, so has Love,
But I have vainly sought
For one, that might entirely prove
The picture of my thought.
If violets, when fresh with dew,
Could amaranthine be,
Their soothing, deep, and glowing hue
Would justly speak for me.
Or to some plant with tendrils fine,
With blossoms sweet and gay,
This office I would now assign;
But flowers will all decay!
A bird would suit my purpose more,
With filial heart endued;
But, ere their little life is o'er,
Birds lose their gratitude!
No emblem of the love I feel
Appears within my view;
Less ardent, or less pure the zeal,
Less tender, or less true!
All I can do is to avow,
My services are thine;
And that my spirit still shall bow,
Before my Valentine.