Classic Poem

Four years were mine at Princeton,
And the friends I had were four;
Though a man be wise as I am not
And rich as I am poor,
And all his years be good to him
He shall not find him more.

There was one had joy of colors,
And one whose heart was wrung
By all the ancient beautiful things
Which dead men have sung,
But all were filled with the fulness of life,
For all were young.

One held with the great world gone,
And one with the world we see,
One believed in the goodness of God,
And one that no gods be;
But all had faith in the wisdom of youth;
The men who were young with me.

There are better men among the dead,
And better men will start
Out of the years which are not yet
To match them part for part,
But these I wear as a signet set,
As a seal upon my heart.