When I was taller than this selfsame tree,
Put forth my youthful longings. I have erred,
Standing a bleak and barren leafless thing
Among my hopeful brothers. I am shamed.
I will not be less hopeful than the trees;
I will not cease to labor and aspire;
I will not pause in patient high endeavor;
I will be young in heart until I die.
—Lippincott’s Magazine.
(3523)