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[117]
     And drag for curious ear and eye
His faults and follies out?—

Why stuff, for fools to gaze upon,
     With chaff of words, the garb he wore,
As corn-husks when the ear is gone
     Are rustled all the more?

Let kindly Silence close again,
     The picture vanish from the eye,
And on the dim and misty main
     Let the small ripple die.

Yet not the less I own your claim
     To grateful thanks, dear friends of mine.
Hang, if it please you so, my name
     Upon your household line.

Let Fame from brazen lips blow wide
     Her chosen names, I envy none:
A mother's love, a father's pride,
     Shall keep alive my own!

Still shall that name as now recall
     The young leaf wet with morning dew,
The glory where the sunbeams fall
     The breezy woodlands through.

That name shall be a household word,
     A spell to waken smile or sigh;
In many an evening prayer be heard
     And cradle lullaby.

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