You have taught me a lesson; though little you thought
Or intended to do it, the lesson is taught.
By your actions, not words, have I learned to be wise,
To embrace every joy, every sorrow despise.
Did I say that I thought there was happiness here?
I was wrong, for I know it; 'tis perfectly clear.
If you'll listen a bit, take your pipe up again
And continue your smoke, I will try to explain.
To begin with, the land I've adopted as mine
Has a place in my heart, a peculiar shrine.
And my love for the country is true and sincere;
If I can't live in England I wish to live here.
Then, I freely confess, if my way has been hard,
And my path somewhat rough, still I have my reward.
Let my rung on life's ladder be low as it may,
I have fought single-handed each step of the way.
It is well to have fortune, mayhap it is well
In the tents of the noble and titled to dwell;
But the man who has builded his home with his hand
Is the happiest man in the happiest land.
Let milord and milady inherit their wealth,
I am legatee only of vigor and health;
Every cent that I own has been earned by the sweat
Of my brow, and I'm proud to acknowledge it yet.
There's a happiness here every other beyond,
Except one: to be bound in the mystical bond
Which is woven with throbs of the heart that is true,
And the glances of eyes of a love-lightened hue.
And, perchance, even I may have tasted the bliss
That is found in the warmth of the soul-inspired kiss;
And it may have been mine—But I travel too fast.
It is time that the cobbler returned to his last.
But your silence has been philosophic and deep,
And I hope you've enjoyed—why, the man is asleep!
Only closing your eyes? Well, perhaps that will do
To tell the marines, but it's grossly untrue.
I was speaking of England? Undoubtedly so,
So I was, but it's just twenty minutes ago.
I've been talking since then in a serious strain,
And perhaps 'tis as well that I've spoken in vain.