"FROM quiet home and first beginning,
Out to the undiscovered ends,
There's nothing worth the wear of winning,
But laughter and the love of friends."

MY verses in Your path I lay,
And do not deem me indiscreet,
If I should say that surely they
Could find no haven half so sweet
As at Your feet.
Unworthy little rhymes are these,
Tread tenderly upon them, please!

One single favour do I crave,
Which is that You regard my pen
As Your devoted humble slave.
Most fortunate shall I be then
Of mortal men;
For what more happiness ensures
Than work in service such as Yours?

Should You be pleased, at any time,
To dip into this shallow brook
Of simple, unpretentious rhyme,
Or chance with fav'ring smile to look
Upon my book;
Don't mention such a fact out loud,
Or haply I shall grow too proud!

Accept these verses then, I pray,
Disarming press and public too,
For what can hostile critics say?
What else is left for them to do,
Because of You,
But view with kindness this collection,
Which bears the seal of Your protection?