Sale

The word for sale! — Hang out the sign;
Call every traveller here to me;
Who'll buy this brave estate of mine,
And set me from earth's bondage free: —
'Tis going! — Yes, I mean to fling
The bauble from my soul away;
I'll sell it, whatsoe'r it bring; —
The World at Auction here to-day!

It is a glorious tiring to see, —
Ah, it has cheated me so sore!
It is not what it seems to be:
For sale! It shall be mine no more.
Come, turn it o'er and view it well; —
I would not have you purchase dear;
'Tis going — going! — I must sell!
Who bids? — Who'll buy the Splendid Tear?

Here's Wealth in glittering heaps of gold, —
Who bids? — But let me tell you fair,
A baser lot was never sold; —
Who'll buy the heavy heaps of care?
And here, spread out in broad domain,
A goodly landscape all may trace;
Hall — cottage — tree — field — hill and plain;
Who'll buy himself a burial place!

Here's Love, the dreamy potent spell
That beauty flings around the heart;
I know its power, alas! too well; —
'Tis going — Love and I must part!
Must part! — What can I more with Love!
All over the enchanter's reign;
Who'll buy the plumeless, dying dove, —
An hour of bliss, — an age of pain!

And Friendship, — rarest gem of earth, —
(Who e'er hath found the jewel his'?)
Frail, fickle, false and little worth, —
Who bids for Friendship — as it is!
'Tis going — going! — Hear the call:
Once, twice, and thrice! — 'Tis very low!
'Twas once my hope, my stay, my all, —
But now the broken staff must go!

Fame! hold the brilliant meteor high;
How dazzling every gilded name!
Ye millions, now's the time to buy! —
How much for Fame! How much for Fame!
Hear how it thunders! — Would you stand
On high Olympus, far renown'd, —
Now purchase, and a world command! —
And be with a world's curses crown'd!

Sweet star of Hope! with ray to shine
In every sad foreboding breast,
Save this desponding one of mine, —
Who bids for man's last friend and best \
Ah, were not mine a bankrupt life,
This treasure should my soul sustain;
But Hope and I are now at strife,
Nor ever may unite again.

And Song! — For sale my timeless lute;
Sweet solace, mine no more to hold;
The chords that charmed my soul are mute,
I cannot wake the notes of old!
Or e'en were mine a wizard shell,
Could chain a world in raptures high;
Yet now a sad farewell! — farewell! —
Must on its last faint echoes die.

Ambition, fashion, show, and pride, —
I part from all for ever now;
Grief, in an overwhelming tide,
Has taught my haughty heart to bow.
Poor heart! distracted, ah, so long, —
And still its aching throb to bear; —
How broken, that was once so strong;
How heavy, once so free from care.

No more for me life's fitful dream; —
Bright vision, vanishing away!
My bark requires a deeper stream;
My sinking soul a surer stay.
By Death, stern sheriff! all bereft,
I weep, yet humbly kiss the rod,
The best of all I still have left, —
My Faith, my Bible, and my God.