Ah, wherefore goest thou where I cannot?
And what dost thou that I can never mimic?
What hast thou had that I have never got?
Why doubtest thou when I have been no cynic?
Thou dost these things because they are thy fate
And I, poor I, must follow far behind,
Finding myself too incapacitate
To wander in the ways your fashions wind.
But thou look'st back and see'st me here in train
And seeing it, thy pace does slow and halt;
So just as all my hopes began to wane
Thou dost encourage me to re-assault,
And for thy waiting eye redouble trial
So thou wilt, seeing me, begin to smile.
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