When all the world shouted my name,

Did, I remember you, dear friend?

You, who "by closest "bonds could claim

My memory? Yes, in the end,

When all the world no longer cried

My name, but mocked my nakedness,

Spat In my face, and sneered, and lied,

And damned in very wantoness.

You --- why it seems but yesterday,

We cradled, in the self-same nook,

And dreamed, as foolish childhood may,

Of Life's great game, and undertook

Wild, youthful oaths -- swore full and strong,

To share alike each joy and. pain,

To face the utmost, right the wrong,

Let nothing come between us twain.

And, then --- our paths did twist apart.

You led your uneventful life

In quiet places, played your part

Softly, took to your breast a wife,

Whose soul was so attuned to yours,

That hand in hand --- nor vain the guest ---

You sought, you found the golden shores,

The Happy Islands of the Blest.

Not so with me: I trod the path

Of my own choosing -- and alone.

Naught could obstruct my course --- the wrath

Of men, tile hot curse, nor the moan

Of those who sank beneath my arm,

Could stay my arm, or ease the blow.

I grasped for greater things -- the charm

Of life like yours I did not know.

A score of phantoms did I chase,

And when, in turn, each grasped, in hand,

I paused a moment from the race,

Panting, I could not understand ---

They were but phantoms, nothing more;

The time had passed, I could not joy

In what I had so struggled for ---

A bright bauble --- a pretty toy.

Success did crown my every effort;

But herein lay the great mistake ---

I, who from all things could extort

Subservience, did, not partake

Of the reward until too late;

When I at last did grasp the thing

For which I strove, it was my fate

To find desire had taken wing.

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Copyright © 2005 by Dan Wichlan
This poem was published with the written permission of the Jack London estate.
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