(To Louis Honore Fréchette.)
Laurels for song! And nobler bays,
In old Olympian golden days
Of clamour thro’ the clear-eyed morn,
No bowed triumphant head hath borne
Victorious in all Hellas’ gaze!
They watched his glowing axles graze
The goal, and rent the heavens with praise;-
Yet the supremer heads have worn
Laurels for song.
So thee, from no palaestra-plays
A conqueror, to the gods we raise,
Whose brows of all our singers born
The sacred fillets chief adorn,-
Who first of all our choice displays
Laurels for song.
Charles G. D. Roberts.