05.05.2012, 16:30
A Homily
IN me behold a man but late grown wise,
Whose hairs are grey, as well with toil as years,
Who in my cradle dreamt of great emprise,
And in my youth did vow with blood or tears
To write my name across the world's wide page
In bold emblazonry; who thence confined
My manhood hale as in an iron cage
Of tasks and discipline, nor looked behind
On all the joys of wife and child and friend
Which I with sternest hand had thrust aside;
And who at last securely reached the end,
Yet found therein what most I craved denied,
And from a penny on a beggar spent
Than from a world's applause gained more content.
IN me behold a man but late grown wise,
Whose hairs are grey, as well with toil as years,
Who in my cradle dreamt of great emprise,
And in my youth did vow with blood or tears
To write my name across the world's wide page
In bold emblazonry; who thence confined
My manhood hale as in an iron cage
Of tasks and discipline, nor looked behind
On all the joys of wife and child and friend
Which I with sternest hand had thrust aside;
And who at last securely reached the end,
Yet found therein what most I craved denied,
And from a penny on a beggar spent
Than from a world's applause gained more content.