University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Ultima Verba

[by W. J. Linton]

collapse section
 



ULTIMA VERBA



I coveted greatness, but I had it not;
I sued to Fame, she smileth on me still;
I would be useful:—is it good or ill
I have accomplish'd? I accept my lot.
I have loved much, and have been well beloved;
I have had noblest friends and have lost none;
Grey Failure bows to some things I have done,
What worth was mine not too austerely proved.
I have had praise and friendship, and fond love,
Not of the crowd, but surely of the few,—
The “few” not few, so many leal and true.
So the herb Gratitude within me throve.


I wrong'd none wilfully; I may have hurt,
Erring or careless: on the other side
May I not plead that I have greatly tried
To help my fellows? I have this desert.
No idler, Art-employ rejoiced my soul;
And patriot service gave my life an aim;
Working for the Republic, I became
Friend of Mazzini and the Noble Pole.
In friendship and in love I found reward
For griefs and failures: love's sufficient gain.
No bargaining of pleasure against pain:
Some honey ever in the hiver's hoard.


I had great blessings, and for all I had
I thank the Giver. I might have had more
But for my own faults. Have I to deplore?
Much cause for thanks has told me to be glad.
Still the sun warms me; earth is fair; and night
Keeps its star-splendour; life itself is good.
The hungry heart need not be wanting food
Of cheerfulness: a smile is a delight.
Age steals upon me with considerate pace,
My life's sun slowly sinking to the night;
With not infirm step nor with failing sight,
Amid the pageant I yet keep my place.


What better hap than as a tree to vade,
Storm-times outlived, the summer green enjoy'd?
Methinks one so may peer into the Void,
Nor ask of the next season—unafraid.
Death draweth nigh, the messenger of what?
His messenger who giveth life at first.
Come, Death! or rest or promise. At the worst
I bow to the Disposer of my lot.
Thankful for length of days, for health, for power
To do and to possess; and as I die
Grateful for life, for all I have had. Why
Should I require the lengthening of an hour?


I stand beside the everduring sea,
In which I think is no such thing as waste:
Content to linger, and prepared for haste,
As the Great Finger beckoneth to me.
Say these few words, if any, o'er my grave,
Whether dispraise or honour mark my name:—
He hoped at least some quiet place to claim
Among the Cheerful and beside the Brave.