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.