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.