Behold, I have found my land, the country
Where my name’s cut without a fault
By him who is to bury me,
If he was bred to dig my vault.
Earth gapes: I drop into the tin,
Since the iron halfpenny,
Which at a time of war came in,
Has outlived its utility.
Nor is the iron ring legal tender.
New world, land, rights: I read each letter.
Our law is war’s, the thriftless spender,
And gold coins keep their value better.
Long I had lived with my own heart;
Then others came with many a fuss.
They said: “You kept yourself apart.
We wish you could have been with us.”
So did I live in vanity.
I now draw my conclusion thus.
They did but make a fool of me,
And even my death is fatuous.
I have tried all my life to keep
My footing in a whirlwind fast.
The thought is ludicrously cheap
That others’ harm matched mine at last.
The spring is good and summer, too,
But autumn better and winter best
For him who finds his last hopes through
Family hearths he knew as guest.