Album Verses

Thou record of the votive throng.
That fondly seek this fairy shrine,
And pay the tribute of a song
Where worth and loveliness combine,—

What boots that I, a vagrant wight
From clime to clime still wandering on,
Upon thy friendly page should write
—Who'll think of me when I am gone?

Go plough the wave, and sow the sand!
Throw seed to ev'ry wind that blows;
Along the highway strew thy hand,
And fatten on the crop that grows.

For even thus the man that roams
On heedless hearts his feeling spends;
Strange tenant of a thousand homes.
And friendless, with ten thousand friends!

Yet here, for once, I'll leave a trace,
To ask in after times a thought!
To say that here a resting-place
My wayworn heart has fondly sought.

So the poor pilgrim heedless strays,
Unmoved, thro' many a region fair;
But at some shrine his tribute pays
To tell that he has worshipp'd there.