My work is finished that has been to me <br /> My only solace for this many a day. <br />But whether it in other company <br /> May so beguile the time and hue the ray <br /> Of loneliness and thought, I dare not say; <br />Nor whether with the future it shall be <br />A thing of note, nor whether presently <br /> ’Tis doomed to waste like a thin mist away. <br />Yet whatsoever be its worldly lot, <br /> I know that, hive-like, it with love is stored, <br />And that through all its pages I have not <br /> Written one wilfully misleading word, <br /> Or traced one feeling that my heart ignored— <br />One line that truth has counselled me to blot. <br /> <br /><br /><br />Charles Harpur<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-end-of-the-book/
