Classic Poem

Once on a time, no matter when,
I thought I'd be a rhymer;
A poet that the world would praise,
No common jingle chimer!

I thought the praise of men would give
Contentment, rest and peace,
And even riches, too, I thought.
And all my cares release.

And so with eagerness I sought
The Muse in woodland shades;
In sun and shadowed checkered dells
And flower-scented glades.

I stood beside clear, limpid streams,
And on the restless sea
I gazed, but ah, no Muse was there,
Leastwise not there for me.

And so I wandered back again,
Back to my own hearthstone;
By Muse of poesy unfired,
But by experience grown.

Not always the goal we climb for
Is it possible to attain,
Not always the thing we wish for
Are we able to obtain.

The heights that famous men have reached
We all may hope to reach;
But often the striving for them
Will a noble lesson teach.

We all were made for some purpose,
For a noble purpose, too;
But deeds that the world considers great
May not be ours to do.

Then let us ever strive to be
Contented with our state;
Nor think that our enjoyment lies
Alone in being great.