Classic Poem

I wish I had not come to man's estate,
I wish I was a silly urchin still,
With bounding pulses, and a heart elate
To meet whatever came of good or ill.

Of good or ill! Not knowing what was good,
But groping to a better than I knew;
And guessing deeper than I understood;
And hoping truths that seemed to be untrue.

Of good or ill! When, so it often seems,
There is no good at all but only ill.
Alas, the sunny summer-time of dreams!
She dragons I had nerved my hand to kill!

The maid I could have rescued, and the queen
Whose champion long ago I might have been!