I SEND this ring of braided hair,
A simple gift, to thee,
One more fond pledge of perfect trust,
And perfect peace, from me.

Thou 'lt wear it for our dear love's sake,
So fresh and pure and strong,
Far sweeter than the dreams of fame,
Of romance, or of song.

And when snows fall, or spring-flowers wave,
My cold, still breast ahoy,
Dear, faithful heart, thou 'lt wear it then
In memory of our love.

Bird of my bosom! blessed shape
Of joy and song thou art;
Sweet soul of tenderness and truth,
Soft nestled in my heart.

Thou say'st that heart is Poesy's harp,
A lute which Pleasure plays,
And Love's own dimpled fingers wake
To gay or mournful lays.

Then grieve not, should strains sad or harsh
Rise sometimes from its strings,
When thou dost jar the silver chords
With the fluttering of thy wings.