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