Who find these random “Sketches” not a burden and a bore
Too heavy for digestion and too light for solemn lore—
Who find a grain of pleasure has been added to their store
By some glad reminiscence of the palmy days of yore,
Or tender recollection of the old friends gone before—
Who find some things to cherish and but little to deplore—
Good-bye, our voyage ended, we must anchor on the shore.
The last line has been written, all the labor now is o’er,
The task has had sweet relish from the surface to the core;
The sand-rock is exhausted, for the oil has drain’d each pore,