Classic Poem

He, fixing eyes of hope upon the sun,
And never steering while the swift waves run,
Him turning as they list, can reach no goal.

For all our life is made of little things,
Our chain of life is forged of little rings,
And little words and acts uplift the soul.

'T is good to look aloft with ardent eyes,
And work as well; he, doing these, is wise;
But one without the other gains no goal.