A VOW
                                                                  Edgar Guest

 
      I might not ever scale the mountain heights
      Where all the great men stand in glory now;
      I may not ever gain the world's delights
      Or win a wreath of laurel for my brow;
      I may not gain the victories that men
      Are fighting for, nor do a thing to boast of
      I may not get a fortune here, but then,
      The little that I have I'll make the most of.

      I'll make my little home a palace fine,
      My little patch of green a garden fair,
      And I shall know each humble plant and vine
      As rich men know their orchid blossoms rare.
      My little home may not be much to see;
      Its chimneys may not tower far above;
      But it will be a mansion great to me,
      For in its walls I'll keep a hoard of love.
\
      I will not pass my modest pleasures by
      To grasp at shadows of more splendid things,
      Disdaining what of joyousness is nigh
      Because I am denied the joy of kings.
      But I will laugh and sing my way along,
      I'll make the most of what is mine today,
      And if I never rise above the throng,
      I shall have lived a full life anyway.