What Then? W.B. Yeats

His chosen comrades thought at school He must grow a famous man; He thought the same and lived by rule, All his twenties crammed with toil; "What then?' sang Plato's ghost. "What then?" Everything he wrote was read, After certain years he won Sufficient money for his need, Friends that have been friends indeed; "What then?' sang Plato's ghost. " What then?' All his happier dreams came true - A small old house, wife, daughter, son, Grounds where plum and cabbage grew, poets and Wits about him drew; "What then.?' sang Plato's ghost. "What then?' The work is done,' grown old he thought, "According to my boyish plan; Let the fools rage, I swerved in naught, Something to perfection brought'; But louder sang that ghost, "What then?'