My life's tommorow beckons me
From distant mountains, high and low;
My future seems a boundless sea,
Where moving passions come and go.
Deep in my heart ambitions dwells;
He cheers me up the highland,
And guides me through the hills and dells
Wherein I pass the busy day.
I cannot write with Shakespeare's pen,
But I can love with Shakespeare's heart;
I love his skill his craft of men,
His mastery of poet's art.
I do not care for fame, has he,
Enthroned, was like unto a god:
The depths he reached are dark to me.
But I will grope the ways he tried.
I wear achievement’s coronet,
For best are they who see things done!
And all my cares I soon forget
When I have wrought my work alone.
If I be met by adverse fate,
And all my dreams be but in vain;
Then, must I work the harder yet
With high resolve to try again.
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