Poems (Procter)/My Will

by Adelaide Anne Procter

For works with similar titles, see My Will.

MY WILL.

INCE I have no lands or houses, And no hoarded golden store,What can I leave those who love me When they see my face no more?Do not smile; I am not jesting, Though my words sound gay and light,Listen to me, dearest Alice, I will make my Will to-night.

First for Mabel,—who will never Let the dust of future yearsDim the thought of me, but keep it Brighter still: perhaps with tears.In whose eyes, whate'er I glance at, Touch, or praise, will always shine,Through a strange and sacred radiance, By Love's Charter, wholly mine;She will never lend to others Slenderest link of thought I claim,I will, therefore, to her keeping Leave my memory and my name.

Bertha will do truer service To her kind than I have done,So I leave to her young spirit The long Work I have begun.Well! the threads are tangled, broken, And the colors do not blend,She will bend her earnest striving Both to finish and amend: And, when it is all completed, Strong with care and rich with skill,Just because my hands began it, She will love it better still.

Ruth shall have my dearest token, The one link I dread to break,The one duty that I live for, She, when I am gone, will take.Sacred is the trust I leave her, Needing patience, prayer, and tears;I have striven to fulfil it, As she knows, these many years.Sometimes hopeless, faint, and weary, Yet a blessing shall remainWith the task, and Ruth will prize it, For my many hours of pain.

What must I leave you, my Alice? Nothing, Love, to do or bear,Nothing that can dim your blue eyes With the slightest cloud of care.I will leave my heart to love you, With the tender faith of old;Still to comfort, warm, and light you, Should your life grow dark or coldNo one else, my child, can claim it; Though you find old scars of pain,They were only wounds, my darling, There is not, I trust, one stain.

Are my gifts indeed so worthless Now the slender sum is told?Well, I know not: years may bless them With a nobler price than gold. Am I poor? ah no, most wealthy, Not in these poor gifts you take,But in the true hearts that tell me You will keep them for my sake.