Dost thou look back on what hath been, As some divinely gifted man, Whose life in low estate began And on a simple village green; Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, And grasps the skirts of happy chance, And breasts the blows of circumstance, And grapples with his evil star; Who makes by force his merit known And lives to clutch the golden keys, To mould a mighty state's decrees, And shape the whisper of the throne; And moving up from high to higher, Becomes on Fortune's crowning slope The pillar of a people's hope, The centre of a world's desire; Yet feels, as in a pensive dream, When all his active powers are still, A distant dearness in the hill, A secret sweetness in the stream, The limit of his narrower fate, While yet beside its vocal springs He play'd at counsellors and kings, With one that was his earliest mate; Who ploughs with pain his native lea And reaps the labor of his hands, Or in the furrow musing stands: 'Does my old friend remember me?' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS WINDING-SHEET by ROBERT HERRICK ON A MAGAZINE SONNET by RUSSELL HILLARD LOINES THE MOTHER by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 5. OF TEMPERANCE by WILLIAM BASSE EASTER (TO A BASE AND TWO TREBLES) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE LINE MEN by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |