Classic Poem

All things that follow Nature's course take time.
There is no haste with them, from suns to seeds,
From star-births to earth's little greening weeds—
No haste—no leaping of the law sublime
Whose promise is Eternity! The crime
Of haste is man's, who, trampling on law, pleads
God's ignorance of what the future needs.
And for some purpose God endures the mime.
God of our nobler fathers, I adore Thee!
Too late I live to dedicate my ways
To Thee divinely, and I can restore Thee
Only a starving soul, but that with praise
That I have set no other god before Thee,
And have despised the Moloch of my days.