To Lillah

By John Grosvenor Wilson

Dearest, to thee I dedicate the fruit
Of loving labor all inspired by thee,
Thine were the hands that planted at the root,
To thee belongs the blossom of the tree.
If haply men find some small portion sweet,
Worthy to hold their hearts a little space,
Then will the task be not all incomplete,
And my delight will be to see thy face
Smile with unselfish joy, and my regret
That in such weak, imperfect song as mine
Scant meed of praise can come to thee -- and yet
I could not fashion thee a worthy shrine,
Nor yield thee full, fair honor tho' my pen
Thrilled with all power known to gods and men.