Classic Poem

Here are the treasures I have won:
A sense of Duty sometimes done;
A pleasing taste of present fame;
The goodly solace of a name
That men speak well of here and there;
And gold enough to banish care;
A place in the community
Wherein my neighbors speak of me
As one who's made use of his days
In doing good in divers ways;
Who has not wasted fleeting hours,
Nor idly spent his stock of powers
On things of trivial intent;
A retrospect of shadows blent
With many a vista flashed with gold,
In which rare scenes of bliss unfold
And turn to jewels e'en the tears
That dimmed the eyes in yesteryears.

The cost has been the loss of skies
That promised many a noble prize;
The loss of spring-time in the heart,
Of Youth the all-essential part;
The loss of eagerness to meet
The unknown perils of the street;
The dimming of Ambition's light;
A greater sense of coming night;
The loss of thrilled expectancy
When thinking on what is to be;
On what to-morrow holds in store
Upon its dark untrodden shore;
The loss of dreams of deeds to do;
The love of all things strange and new —
All these possessions rare are lost,
Forever gone to swell the cost
Of life and all the hard-won bays
That crown me in my latter days.

The balance? Strike it if you will.
Find it of good, or find it ill —
I vex me not with balances
To see if loss or profit is.
I've joyed in joys, and grieved in tears.
The light and shadow of the years
Have kept me ever in their reach,
As night and day each follows each.
Great happiness and woes have come,
Like summers fair and winters numb.
Great peace has filled my soul, and strife
Has had its portion of my life,
And as I draw nigh to the end,
And think of enemy and friend,
Of helpmate fair, of bliss and grief,
Of flowers dead, and buds in leaf,
Of troubles, trials, blessings, gifts;
Of plans, ambitions, failures, shifts,
I would not cast the balance up
If sweet or bitter be the cup,
But am content, whate'er befall —
I'm grateful to have lived at all!