Classic Poem

My boyhood chased the butterfly,
Or, when the shower was gone,
Sought treasures at the rainbow's end,
That lured me, wandering on.
I caught nor bow nor butterfly,
Though eagerly I ran;
But in the chase I found myself ,
And grew to be a man.

In later years I've chased the good,
The beautiful, and true:
Mirage-like forms which take not shape,
They flit as I pursue.
But, while the endless chase I run,
I grow in life divine:
I miss the ideals that I seek,
But God himself is mine .