THE QUEST

In every age we start on journeys

To find out whom we think we are;

And longing for a life of tourneys,

We falter after just so far.

But after all these youthful questings

In search of right, we come to restings

And when we’re full of war and peace

And have not found our Golden Fleece,

Or what has been our longed for idol,

We vow that we will no more roam

And settle in a model home.

And so are punished with a bridle:

We settle for a life of doubt

And give up what we used to shout.