Poems (Dorr)/Heirship

by Julia Caroline Dorr

HEIRSHIP

Little store of wealth have I;
 Not a rood of land I own;
Nor a mansion fair and high
 Built with towers of fretted stone.
Stocks, nor bonds, nor title-deeds,
 Flocks nor herds have I to show;
When I ride, no Arab steeds
 Toss for me their manes of snow.

I have neither pearls nor gold,
 Massive plate, nor jewels rare;
Broidered silks of worth untold,
 Nor rich robes a queen might wear.
In my garden's narrow bound
 Flaunt no costly tropic blooms,
Ladening all the air around
 With a weight of rare perfumes.

Yet to an immense estate
 Am I heir, by grace of God,—
Richer, grander than doth wait
 Any earthly monarch's nod.
Heir of all the Ages, I—
 Heir of all that they have wrought,
All their store of emprise high,
 All their wealth of precious thought.

Every golden deed of theirs
 Sheds its lustre on my way;
All their labors, all their prayers,
 Sanctify this present day!
Heir of all that they have earned
 By their passion and their tears,—
Heir of all that they have learned
 Through the weary, toiling years!

Heir of all the faith sublime
 On whose wings they soared to heaven;
Heir of every hope that Time
 To Earth's fainting sons hath given!
Aspirations pure and high—
 Strength to dare and to endure—
Heir of all the Ages, I—
 Lo! I am no longer poor!