Reader, farewell! If from these leaves of mine
Thy heart shall glean one solitary flower
If, in its sweep, one full and flowing line
Waft but a water-lily for its dower
If, as thou saunterest on, my lyric power
May shed one sunbeam on thy morning way,
Or light one glow-worm for thine evening bower,
I have not pour'd for nought the lonely lay.
Yet, should no meed like this my verse repay,
There's pleasure still in the sweet work of song:
No less the woodlark hails the sinking day,
Though none may list his sunset haunts among.
Once more, farewell! Oh, not unwelcome be
The balm that trickles from a stranger-tree!
Rev. John Johns (fl.1825)
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