In the Morning by Willis Boyd Allen - HTML preview

A VALENTINE.

If but the furry catkin small

Could speak with gentle voice

And bid the sad, Rejoice!

A pussy-willow should be all

My valentine.

If but the golden daffodil,

With many a cheerful word,

Could tell what it hath heard

By meadow, wood, or murmuring rill,

It should be mine.

If but the valley-lilies pure

Could whisper in thine ear

A message thou wouldst hear,

Of One whose promises are sure,

Whose love divine,

Such flowers my valentine should be.

Yet sought I none of those,—

Only one crimson rose

To bear its Maker’s heart to thee,—

Lo, it is thine!