And even the thought, that we utter not,
In heaven is like a shout.
And bad or good, it is understood,
And the angels write it out.
But they do not care, if the face be fair,
Or what the world deems plain.
They look to the heart, and the deathless part,
For the rest is poor and vain.
1870
[A PLEA FOR FAME]
Let those slander fame who will--
Call her cheat and blame her ways.
It may all be true; and still
I shall give her words of praise.
She has been my faithful friend,
True and constant to the end.
Since I saw her hand first beckon
Far above my lowly plain,
I have had no need to reckon
What my loss, or what my gain.
She has made sweet blossoms blow
In whatever path I go;
She hath made the dark ways light,
Made the somber places bright;
She has filled my empty cup
Full to overflow with pleasure,
And, though I may drink it up,
She again refills the measure.
She has never promised aught
That she has not more than brought.
She has stood by me in danger,
Made a friend of many a stranger--
Made a welcome warm for me
Whereso'er my lot may be;
Thrown wide open many a door
That was closed to me before;
Given me every boon and blessing--
Almost--that is worth possessing.
All my life, I never knew
Any other friend so true.
Youth and Love are fleeting things;
Wealth has light and airy wings--
Fame, once mine, will never flee,
She has been a friend to me.
Let who will condemn her ways,
I shall always sing her praise.
1872
[SOMEWHERE]
Somewhere there is a spot of ground,
Covered with grass, or snow, may-be,
That one day will be spaded 'round
And dug up to make room for me.