The sacred fillets chief adorn,--
Who first of all our choir displays
Laurels for song.



A BIRTHDAY BALLADE.


All deserted to wind and to sun
You have left the dear, dusky canoe.
The amber cool currents still run,
But our paddle forgets to pursue.
Our river wears still the rare blue,
But its sparkle seems somehow less gay;
It confides me this greeting for you--
Many Happy Returns of the Day!

Where's the mirth that with morn was begun,
Nor dreaded the dark and the dew?
Some sweet thieves have made off with our fun!
Would our paddles were free to pursue!
Ah, could we but catch them anew,
Clip their wings, forbid them to stray,
Then more blithely we'd sing than we do--
Many Happy Returns of the Day!

Dear remembrances die, one by one,
So cunning Time's craft to undo!
But ours must be never undone.