Carthage has gone, and Nineveh and Tyre!
Yea, thrice has Carthage in the dust been laid.
Of other, older, cities, Time has made
Dry kindling, for Ambition's funeral pyre.
This is the certain end of all desire.
Our work must perish and our dreams must fade;
Yet do I wake, each morning, undismayed,
To dream new dreams, to labor, and aspire.

It does not matter that my name must die,
My structures fall and nothing leave behind,
My best achievements pass away forever;
It matters only that immortal I
Feel God is in my heart and soul and mind,
Urging me on and on to new endeavor.