When, I was young. Went rambling on the road,
Me thought it lovely winding. At the bend,
Where skirts the hill, it further would extend
And with its winding, endless visage goad
To pinnacles of beauty; deep inroad,
Of knowledge one by one without end,
Would all be mine for me to comprehend.
And thinking thus, determined, my head bowed,
I looked askance at hurdles, milling crowd
Did not a moment on this warning spend
When it did warn me-“Hurry not, O! friend”.
I vowed- but was I sane, when I vowed?
To pay no heed? For when I reached the bend,
Abysmal chasm found, no further road.
