Lines to a Lady on Being Presented with a Sprig of Alexandrian Laurel

This classic laurel! at the sight
What teeming thoughts suggested rise!
The patriot’s and the poet’s right,
The meed of semi-deities! —

Men who to death have tyrants hurled,
Or bards who may have swayed at will
And soothed that little troubled world,
The human heart, with sweeter skill.

Ah, lady! little it beseems
My brow to wear these sacred leaves;
Yet, like a treasure found in dreams,
Thy gift most pleasantly deceives.

And where is poet on this earth
Whose self-love could the meed withstand.
Even though it far outstript his worth.
Given by so beautiful a hand?