Written in the Deepdene Album.
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 plow the wave, and sow the sand;
Throw seed to every 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 aftertimes a thought;
To say that here a resting-place
My wayworn heart has fondly sought.
So the poor pilgrim heedless strays,
Unmoved, through many a region fair;
But at some shrine his tribute pays,
To tell that he has worshipped there.
Washington Irving.
June 24th, 1822.