Classic Poem

I saw a man running a race
Wherein he had no zest,
Yet ever swifter grew his pace:
He ran like one possessed.

He cried, " O pity me, my friend!
For I am doomed to run
Around a track that has no end
Until my life is done. "

" Stop, man! " I cried, " and walk with me;
Your heart is strained: your feet
Are bleeding sadly. Come and see
Where life is kind and sweet.

" Let's wander by the river-side
And taste the tree of life. "
" O no, " he cried, " I cannot bide;
I run to keep my wife. "

" And I have little children three
Whose mouths must all be fed;
If I run on — God send and see
They come when I am dead. "

I ran behind and caught his hand.
He turned with sudden hate
And said, " O curse your holy land!
I can't afford to wait.

" Hark at the frenzied madmen who
Are coming on behind!
Let go, you fool! " Away he flew;
I listened to the wind;

For not a footstep could I hear
Upon that perfect day.
The kine were lowing by the mere,
And where the buds of may

Were peeping out to view the world,
Like cherubs every one,
A nightingale his song unfurled
To greet the setting sun.