Classic Poem

Let me not lingeringly eye askance
The far-off pleasant other path foregone,
To ponder what I might have been or done
Amid the setting of a kindlier chance;
Nor let me covet aught of circumstance,
Nor ask of peril, when the quest is on,
More than the dimly, shining goal unwon,
The heart to front it, and the forward lance.

Once more to set the course, and once again
To down the craven questionings, to end
The doubtful vigil, to have done with fears
And wavering hours that foredoom the years;
It is the soul's unwearied, steady trend
That builds the deed of nations and of men.