Ah, this is what I wanted,
 And this is what I got,
To be a quiet poet,
 In my own quiet spot.

But oh that I had hungered
 For things of greater worth,
That I had longed and panted
 To bring a soul to birth.

‘Tis those who thirst and hunger
 Whose wishes are fulfilled;
‘Tis those who pray and labour
 Who find that they are skilled.

But oh how oft we settle
 For paltry little goals,
When he with greatest wisdom
 Is he that winneth souls.