If Ever I Should Sigh
If ever I should sigh, humor not my sadness,
Lavish upon me not your ready sympathy,
Nor soft urgings to slip hard work’s harness,
Banish for me woes chanted in a tired litany.
The bitter fruit of my failures turns sweet,
For the spirit rises on what defeat has taught,
Lost are the ones whose hearts grow meek,
Let me mourn not the triumphs vainly sought.
When against me Fortune raises its hand,
It’s as a blacksmith’s hammer it should fall,
Each blow hardens me to more blows withstand,
If fate wants me bowed, I shan’t heed its call.
If ever my soul should weary, comfort me not,
Speak only to make of my despair a mockery,
Save your pity, lament the battles not fought,
Rouse me to covet the treasures in life’s lottery.
With tawdry complaints I shall have few flings,
Hardships I’ll laugh at, dreams I will not abort,
Full-throated I will yet sing as I consort with kings,
In the garden of the gods I shall soon cavort!
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