A Wish

God grant my children may

Not think in terms of gold

When I have passed away

And my poor form is cold.

When I no more shall be,

If of me they would brag,

I'd have them speak of me

As one who loved the Flag.

God grant my children may

Not speak of me as one

Who trod a selfish way,

When I am dead and gone.

When they recall my name

I'd have them tell that I

Held dear my Country's fame

And kept her standards high.

Not for the things I gave

Would I be counted kind;

When I am in my grave,

If they my worth would find,

I'd have them read it there

In red and white and blue

And stars of radiance rare!

And say that I was true.