Sao Tome & Principe

Cats will play with fiddle,
And mischief make all day,
Mice will run and scuttle,
And lead the cats astray,

But what of men who wander
About the place in stress,
Who do not know their stature,
Who have not confidence to guess,

The all of that which we can be
Is greater then, by far,
Than that which is envisaged
As further than the outer star.

Run about in circles,
Chase your tail e’er long,
But in the process take to thinking
Of where you do belong.