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Poem	I've made my Will. I don't believe In luxury and wealth; And to those loving ones who grieve My age and frailing health I give the meed to soothe their ways That they may happy be, And pass serenely all their days In snug security. That duty done, I leave behind The all I have to give To crippled children and the blind Who lamentably live; Hoping my withered hand may freight To happiness a few Poor innocents whom cruel fate Has cheated of their due. A am no grey philanthropist, Too humble is my lot Yet how I'm glad to give the grist My singing mill has brought. For I have had such lyric days, So rich, so full, so sweet, That I with gratitude and praise Would make my life complete. I'VE MADE MY WILL: now near the end, At peace with all mankind, To children lame I would be friend, And brother to the blind . . . And if there be a God, I pray He bless my last bequest, And in His love and pity say: "Good servant,--rest!"
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