Classic Poem

So you think it is " splendid to be a man
And done with the books and school, " my boy?
Ah, but school keeps on after youth is gone,
Under a harder rule, my boy.

Our teacher's name is Experience;
His price of tuition is high, my boy
We can skip if we please, but he always sees,
And lays it on till we cry, my boy.

How long the term shall be for each
We know nothing at all about, my boy;
The school is always open to teach,
But the scholars keep dropping out, my boy.

Some get prizes, and many blanks;
The prizes are mighty few, my boy.
But the one most envied in all our ranks
Would be quick to change with you, my boy;

Wisdom and wealth are prizes rare
With which no one would dispense, my boy;
But the rich and the sage would swap for your age
All of their dollars and sense, my boy.

Don't envy the great who rides in state
Down the middle of life's broad road, my boy;
The black imp, Care, is behind him there,
And his steed carries double load, my boy.

Old Vanderbillion, with fourteen cooks
To see that his dinners are right, my boy,
Would pitch cooks and wine to the dogs, to dine
On a crust with your appetite, my boy.

The sun is shining upon your face:
Our shadows are all before, my boy;
And they lengthen out with our every pace —
Soon they will fall no more, my boy.

Harvest the sunshine in your heart,
Gather its heat and light, my boy:
You'll want it all when the shadows fall,
And you feel the chill of night, my boy.