Classic Poem

And yet it is a wasted heart:
It is a wasted mind
That seeks not in the inner world
Its happiness to find;

For happiness is like the bird
That broods above its nest,
And finds beneath its folded wings,
Life's dearest, and its best.

A little space is all that hope
Or love can ever take;
The wider that the circle spreads,
The sooner it will break.