Lines Thought beneath an Elm at Lunchtime on the way back to the Office of Harrow

Spot of my thirties! whose wistful ambition sighs
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky
Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod
The path of these thoughts before, as I plod
Like those who, scatter'd far, perchance deplore,
The time they spent in full-time jobs before:
Oh! That glorious day! An author I'll be
Mine eyes admire books, my heart adores thee
Thou glorious words! Within you I lay
And frequent scribble'd procrastination away;
Where, as it once were wont, to the sock drawer I'd stumble
And tidy and pair and sort and grumble
How do thy stories, alive underneath my fingers
Invite me to remember and smile and linger
And seem to whisper, gently and sincere
"Your time will come, keep going, persevere!"

Author: Jayne and Lord Byron
Real poem can be found here