Classic Poem

I seek not a pathway in life,
My blundering needs no device;
No more do I long for the sun
The glimmer of stars will suffice.

No palaces long I to find,
With numerous chambers and doors,
With princesses regally proud
Pacing the carpeted floors.

A cottage is all that I ask,
The face of a friend at the door,
As I pass from the wind and the rain
To shelter me — that and no more.

A hut and a table within,
The chimney — a wind-fingered lyre
A nook in a corner and dreams
Are the goals of my heart's desire.