Classic Poem

How I have fallen from youth's sublime intent —
How far I am from where my hopes did tend;
Living a life so useless, indolent —
The Sloth stirs more than I, and to more end! —
My soul, which stretched out like a giant sea,
Goes forth from its cold, cheerless tenement
As from an ark that is its prison — sent,
Like Noah's dove, abroad upon discovery;
And it returns as that lone bird returned,
Bringing no tidings such as Hope should bring —
But lost in regions where it once sojourned,
It wingeth back, with fearful fluttering,
To that loathed home from whence it hopeful started,
Hopeless and helpless — wing-broke — and broken-hearted.