Whereat he stirs never but not shaken,
So parts ere the ways long the path taken,
Along the lone way and mildly distressed,
Hung by feeling lost wild where he’s tested,
In view of glimpse of future here beheld,
For affront to happiness is none felt;
But softly speaks the tone of hope just yet,
Looks back at the road so foggy and wet,
Whence forward he peers and happiness regained
Life for fulfilment and progress reserved,
As sounding his way through all he darts,
For page stalwart turn as drum beats his heart,
So steady he walks cuts rope that fail,
So fair and wise to write his past to tale,
People less to tackle his mind be ought,
More the people to better joy be fraught,
Final to his word and never shall yield
Hand that guides his way but proudly does wield.

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Life, Poetry, Works
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