170 HE^RY KlItKE WUITE S POEMS. 



Kow come around, ye flippant sons of wealth, 

 Sarcastic smile on genius fallen low ; 

 Now come around who pant for fame, 

 And learn from hence a poet's name 



Is purchased but bj woe : 

 And when ambition prompts to rke, 

 Oh think of him below. 



For me, poor moralizer, I will run. 

 Dejected, to some solitary state : 

 The muse has set her seal on me^ 

 She set her seal on Dermody, 



It is the seal of fate : 

 In some lone spot my bones may lie, 

 Secure from human hate. 



Yet ere I go I'll drop one silent tear, 



Where lies unwept the poet's fallen head ; 

 May peace her banners o'er him wave 5 

 For me in my deserted grave 



No friend a tear shall shed : 

 Yet may the lily and the rose 

 Bloom on my grassy bed. 



