A ship sailed out into the golden west,
Her sails were set and bellied in the breeze.
But battered she returned from o’er the seas,
And meekly sought in port a failure’s rest.
A bird soared in the sky far from its nest,
And trilled aloft its lovely melodies,
But Heaven was closed – ‘Twas woeful hard to please –
The bird fell, having done a failure’s best.
Ambition ever opens golden gates,
Luring away into a smiling land,
When gems are blazing on the sunlit strand;
And somewhere is the distance silent waits
The nameless trophy, now a myth, then real,
But always fading like a spectre pale!