Thy Name

Be mine, and I will give thy name
To Memory's care,
So well, that it shall breathe, with fame,
Immortal air,
That time and change and death shall be
Scorn'd by the life I give to thee.

I will not, like the sculptor, trust
Thy shape to stone;
That, years shall crumble into dust,
Its form unknown;
No — the white statue's life shall be
Short, to the life I'll give to thee.

Not to the canvas worms may fret
Thy charms I'll give;
Soon shall the world those charms forget,
If there they live;
The life that colors lend shall be
Poor to the life I'll give to thee.

For thou shalt live, defying time
And mocking death,
In music on — O life sublime! —
A nation's breath;
Love, in a people's songs, shall be
The eternal life I'll give to thee.