Roots
What though life’s troubles storm about my head;
Though highest hopes are dashed down, time on time;
That rare-wrought compositions are derided
And richest of confections judged as chyme?.
I still have patience to outlast invective
And, more enduring than the longest years,
Will I persist in my declared objective
To persevere until my fame matures.
I have a faith unshakeable which knows
One day I shall earn honour from my schemes;
My mind has slept on Inspiration’s pillows
And knows the power of their deathless dreams.
Long roots of tireless strength drink deep within my heart:
Bright blossoms of success will fruit upon my art.
