Sonnet Clix: Poem by George Henry Boker

Oh! what a hollow and a bootless thing
Is human life, to sum it all in all,
From restless cradle unto quiet pall,
Whether it be of beggar or of king!
We buzz and fret, we suffer and we sting;
We base our fortunes on another's fall,
Truckle to great ones, trample out the small,
Till vapid sameness tires the spirit's wing.
Heaven knows how calmly I would lay my head,
At rest from dreams of wealth and power and fame,
Beneath the broidery of a daisy bed,
Were I not lured by Love's unselfish aim,
That shines along the lowly way I tread,
Pure, bright and steady as an altar-flame.