Words After Longfellow
Half of my life was spent—nay more than half--
Musing upon a future’s filled carafe,
Wine to be drunk, as plenteous in my store,
Without the need to worry anymore.
Alas, these vain imaginings were vain,
Vain I shall call them, only vain again,
So much of squandered time to spend in doting
On stratagems and schemes which wound up nothing.
A life of paucity and dearth it was,
Ambitions unfulfilled, and hopes in pause,
Yet having seen the best of dreams expire
I knew the height of vanity: desire.