Cyrano de Bergerac

To sing, to laugh, to dream,

To walk in my own way and be alone,/Free, with an eye to see things as they are,

A voice that means manhood - to cock my hat/Where I choose - At a word, a Yes, a No,

To fight - or write. To travel any road/Under the sun, under the stars, nor doubt

If fame or fortune lie beyond the bourne -/Never to make a line I have not heard

In my own heart; yet, with all modesty/To say: "My soul, be satisfied with flowers,

With fruit, with weeds even; but gather them/In one garden you may call your own."

So when I win some triumph, by some chance,/Render no share to Caeser.

In a word, I am too proud to be a parasite./And if my nature wants the germ that grows

Towering to heaven like a mountain pine,/Or like the oak sheltering multitudes.

I stand not high it may be – but alone!