Ulysses
Ulysses thought that he had lost
Olympus’ wry smile
When his frail boat by waves was tossed
Upon the Cyclops isle.
He found that he had even more
Which could be swiftly lost,
And that what fate too often stole
Claimed but a modest cost.
What little he bemoaned he had
Was far more than he thought:
He might have been content and glad
For his too happy lot.
I, likewise, when I fear I’ve lost
All hope amidst regret,
Recall that every bridge I’ve crossed
Has made me richer yet.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
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