(WHAT THE GHOSTS SAID.) <br />And after all the labour and the pains, <br />After the heaping up of gold on gold, <br />After success that locked your feet in chains, <br />And left you with a heart so tired and old, <br /> <br />Strange-is it not?-to find your chief desire <br />Is what you might have had for nothing then- <br />The face of love beside a cottage fire <br />And friendly laughter with your fellow-men? <br /> <br />You were so rich when fools esteemed you poor. <br />You ruled a field that kings could never buy: <br />The whisper of the sea was at your door, <br />And all those quiet stars were in your sky, <br /> <br />The nook of ferns below the breathless wood <br />Where one poor book could unlock Paradise. . . . <br />What will you give us now for that lost good? <br />Better forget. You cannot pay the price. <br /> <br />You left them for the fame in which you trust. <br />But youth, and hope-did you forsake them too? <br />Courage! When dust at length returns to dust, <br />In your last dreams they may come back to you.<br /><br />Alfred Noyes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-successful-man/
