The poem
My destiny it is tonight To sit with pensive brow Beside my study fire and write This verse I'm making now. This Period, this tiny dot My pencil has defined, By centuries of human thought Was predestined.
And my last period of all With patience now I see; The final point so very small, That locks my life for me. Yet in eternity of time They relatively seem So like,--the dot that rounds my rhyme Or ends my dream.
For each was preordained by Fate Since human life began; So are the little and the great Linked in the life of man. And as I wait without heartache The pencil-point of God, To pattern predestined I make This------.