I could not live with stark reality.
Keep my heart young. Though years bring their decay,
Let virgin-faith companion still with me:
No craggy hill of thought will be too high
For me to climb and sing while doing so.
My forward-looking eyes will see blue sky
Beyond the darkness when the wild winds blow.
Let me, mind-tall, bend not before defeat;
The crest of truth be ever challenging
My will to dare new trailways ... I entreat
That I may ever feel the urge of spring.
Let me grow body-old, inform and spent,
But never let me grow indifferent.
