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 * is my Valedictory. I bring

A basket of dried fruits—autumnal leaves, And mosses, pressed from ocean's sunless tides. I strew them votive at your feet, sweet friends, Who've listened to me long—with grateful thanks For favoring smiles, that have sustained and cheered All weariness.
 * I never wrote for fame—

The payment seemed not to be worth the toil; But wheresoe'er the kind affections sought To mix themselves by music with the mind, That was my inspiration and delight.