Who shall guess what I may be?
Who can tell my fortune to me?
For, bravest and brightest that ever was sung,
May be -- and shall be -- the lot of the young!

Hope, with her prizes and victories won,
Shines in the blaze of my morning sun,
Conquering Hope, with golden ray,
Blessing my landscape far away;

All my meadows and hills are green,
And rippling waters glance between,--
All my skies are rosy bright,
Laughing in triumph at yesternight:

My heart, my heart within me swells,
Panting, and stirring its hundred wells;--
For youth is a noble seed that springs
Into the flower of heroes and kings!

Rich in the present, though poor in the past,
I yearn for the future, vague and vast;
And lo! what treasure of glorious things
Giant Futurity sheds from his wings;

Pleasures are there, like dropping balms,
And glory and honour with chaplets and palms,
And mind well at ease, and gladness, and health,
A river of peace, and a mine of wealth!

Away with your counsels, and hinder me not,--
On, on let me press to my brilliant lot?
Young and strong, and sanguine and free,
How knowest thou what I may be?