Classic Poem

Here lies a little boy who made believe;
Who found in sea and city, hill and star,
What wise men said were not; who loved to weave
Dream warp and woof more fair than things that are.
He made believe that heavy toil and stress
Were only play, and sang the while he wrought;
He made believe that wealth and fame are less
Than faith and truth — that love cannot be bought;
That honor lives; that far beyond the goal
That lures our eyes, to nobler ports we steer;
That grief was meant to forge the living soul,
And death itself is not for men to fear.
At last he made believe his play was played;
A kindly Hand the darkening curtain drew.
So well he made believe he nearly made
The world believe his make believes were true.