Standing in this place of strife.
O those olden days of dalliance,
When I wantoned with my fate;
When I trifled with the knowledge
That had well-nigh come too late.
Yet, my soul, look not behind thee;
Thou hast work to do at last;
Let the brave toil of the present
Overarch the crumbling past.
Build thy great acts high and higher;