Thou art the lode-star of my life,
My warmest wishes turn to thee;
Through all this dim world's dust and strife
Thy lustre calmly beams on me!

Thou art the sweetest flower that sheds
Its fragrance on my dreary way;
From thee springs all the joy that spreads
Around my path from day to day!

Ah! I would toil both soon and late,
Would scale this rough world's thorny steep,
And many a weary year I'd wait,
And many a wakeful vigil keep;—

Happy, if, when the turmoil past,
A haven smiled of peaceful rest,—
I found the radiant star at last,
I wore the flower upon my breast!