One day shall my darling read it...

One day shall my darling read it;

Now she cannot understand

All the noble thoughts, that lighten

Through the genius of the land.

I am proud to be his brother,

Proud to think that hope was true;

Though I longed and strove so vainly,

What I failed in, he could do.

I was long before I knew it,

Longer ere I felt it so;

Then I strung my rhymes together

Only for the poor and low.

And, it pleases me to know it,

( For I love them well indeed,)

They care for my humble verses,

Fitted for their humble need.

And, it cheers my heart to bear it,

Where the far-off settlers roam,

My poor words are sung and cherished,

Just because they speak of Home.

And the little children sing them,

( That, I think, has pleased me best,)

Often, too, the dying love them,

For they tell of Heaven and rest.

So my last vain dream has faded;

( Such as I to think of fame! )

Yet I will not say it failed me,

For it crowned my Godfrey's name.

No; my Angel did not cheat me,

For my long life has been blest;

He did give me Love and Sorrow,

He will bring me Light and Rest.