Almighty Father! let thy lowly child

Almighty Father! let thy lowly child,
Strong in his love of truth, be wisely bold, —
A patriot bard, by sycophants revil'd,
Let him live usefully and not die old!
Let poor men's children, pleas'd to read his lays,
Love, for his sake, the scenes where he hath been;
And, when he ends his pilgrimage of days,
Let him be buried where the grass is green;
Where daisies, blooming earliest, linger late
To hear the bee his busy note prolong:—
There let him slumber, and in peace await
The dawning morn, far from the sensual throng,
Who scorn the wind-flow'rs blush, the red-breast's

lonely song.