WHAT is the dearest wish my soul can make?
What great desire can all this world bestow?
What is the very height of boon I know?
What gift immeasurable I can take?
Is there some precious thing for its own sake
My mind doth crave to make it strong and glow?
Is there some priceless treasure I might show,
And make men from their rosy dreams awake?
No treasure this deep world can give I need.
My dearest wish no mighty king can give;
My great desire—no bauble that will cloy!
I seek no gains on which ambitions feed!
Far more I seek; always to move and live
And have my being in my Hebe’s joy.
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