| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | II. Christmas Sonnets. 1. To G. H. B. | | By Bayard Taylor (1825–1878) |
| | | IF that my hand, like yours, dear George, were skilled | |
| To win from Wordsworth’s scanty plot of ground | |
| A shining harvest, such as you have found, | |
| Where strength and grace, fraternally fulfilled, | |
| As in those sheaves whose rustling glories gild | 5 |
| The hills of August, folded are and bound: | |
| So would I draw my loving tillage round | |
| Its borders, let the gentlest rains be spilled, | |
| The goldenest suns its happy growth compel, | |
| And bind for you the ripe, redundant grain: | 10 |
| But ah! you stand amid your songful sheaves | |
| So rich, this weed-born flower you might disdain, | |
| Save that of me its growth and color tell, | |
| And of my love some perfume haunt its leaves. | | | | |
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