From The Washington Herald, July 19, 1913. By John A. Joyce.
In the morning of life
I was filled with ambition
To roam o’er the world
And see sights afar;
But somehow in age
I am prone to contrition
At missing the splendors
That shone in my star.
Many friends came around me
In moments of pleasure,
Who drank at my banquet
And laughed at my wit.
Yet when they had found
That I lost all my treasure
They left me in sorrow
And silence to sit.
The voice of the crowd
As it rung in my praises
Awakened a joy
I imagined would last.
But, alas, my ambition
Lies under the daisies
And the wrecks of my glory
Are strewn in the past!
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