Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By IrvingBrowne

632 My New World

MY prow is tending toward the west,

Old voices growing faint, dear faces dim,

And all that I have loved the best

Far back upon the waste of memory swim.

My old world disappears:

Few hopes and many fears

Accompany me.

But from the distance fair

A sound of birds, a glimpse of pleasant skies,

A scent of fragrant air,

All soothingly arise

In cooing voice, sweet breath, and merry eyes

Of grandson on my knee.

And ere my sails be furled,

Kind Lord, I pray

Thou let me live a day

In my new world.