Landor

Like crown'd athlete that in a race has run,
And points his finger at those left behind,
And follows on his way as now inclin'd,
With song and laughter in the glowing sun;
And joys at that which he hath joyous done,
And, like a child, will wanton with the wind,
And pluck the flowers his radiant brows to bind —
Re-crown himself as conscious he hath won;
And still regardless of his fellow-men
He follows on his road intent and fain
To please himself, and caring not to gain
The world's applause which he might seek in vain:
A soldier, yet would, careless, sport and play
And leave the reckoning for a distant day.