Classic Poem

I shall reach up, I shall grow
Till the high gods say — Hello,
Little brother, you must stop
Ere our shoulders you o'ertop. —

I shall grow up, I shall reach
Till the little gods beseech
— Master, wait a little, do,
We are running after you! —

I shall bulk and swell and scale
Till the little gods shall quail,
Running everywhere to hide
From the terror of my stride!