Battlements

I used to be a wise man in my way
But now I find that wisdom is but folly;
The baling that I thought I did to hay
Has sprouted thorns, and turned out to be holly.
My sad attempts to prove that I was jolly
Have proven false, even as they were made,
And I from happy am grown melancholy
As joy and wisdom both together fade.
But though disheartened, I am not dismayed;
I am still certain all will come out well
And though the bonds of life may have been frayed,
I will restore them, ere I go through hell.
So though the past has crumbled in my hands
I still build castles in the future's sands.