"Dedication for an Album" by John Rollin Ridge
And pure affection's holy trust,
You ask me now to dedicate
In form that's due—and so I must.
I would some worthier hand than mine
The task essayed; for I profane,
With words that shame the sacred Ninea
The page that else had known no stain.
Yet e'en the rudest terms of speech
Are hallowed by the truth they breathe;
And so these lines that nothing teach,
May dare this shrine of love enwreath.
Blest be each spotless page herein,
Whereon the hand of love shall write,
And worthy of the place they win
The names that here shall meet the sight.
So that, fair owner of this book,
When you these leaves shall wander through
In after years, and pause to look
On name and date no longer new,
A buried past will seem to be
Within the pages that you turn;
And sweet but mournful memory
Will linger o'er each hallowed urn.