I Have Been Building Houses . . .
I have been building houses, year by year,
Abandoning the old one in this spot
Or that, because it was too dark or hot,
Too small or large for any shelter here;
And you who try to tell me that I rear
New failures to decay and leave their rot
Upon the zest of striving have forgot
The restless surge of blood in full career.
But when the years have worn my fingers tired,
And I no longer feel the urge to build
A greater house than that I last desired,
I shall go where the old ones used to stand,
And clothe with all that life leaves unfulfilled
Their ruins lying frustrate on the sand.