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The Inscrutable who set this orb awhirl
And peopled it with men and mysteries,
With height and vale diversified its face,
Left beast to prey on beast and fish on fish,
Geared life to death, conditioned each on each,
Sore price of growth, but indispensable.
To poverty He gave its warning sting,
And poisoned luxury with seeds of sloth.
Gave power to strength that effort might attain:
Gave power to wit that knowledge might direct;
And so with penalties, incentives, gains,
Limits and compensations intricate,
He dowered this earth, that man should never rest
Save as his Maker's will be carried out.
On towards his destiny the creature drives,
Tumultuous, incessant, mutinous,
Usurping now his weaker fellow's share,
Yielding again his own to stronger might,
Aye seeking such a place or such a hoard
ThaThe and his the common lot may cheat,
And live unvexed by fate.
Vain wish! fond dream
That ever fades on eve of coming true!
There is no easy, unearned joy on earth
Save what God gives; — the lustiness of youth,
And love's dear pangs. All other joys we gain
By striving, and so qualified we are
That effort's zest our needs as much consoles
As effort's gain. Both issues are our due.
Sore lot it is to sweat and not be filled,
But sore as well aye to be filled, nor sweat.
Ever to plough and see another reap —
Oh, that is hard; but ease that stretches far
Beyond the space that labor's waste repairs,
Speeds to decay. Death lies hid in that,
And seeds of every sin that rots the strength
And stains the soul. Better when work is past
Back into dust dissolve and help a seed
Climb upwards, than with strength still full
Deny to God his claim and thwart his wish.
Fond fools with gold in store whose end they miss,
Glutted with unused opportunity,
Behold, drift idle on inglorious tides,
Nor ever trim a sail nor make a port;
Playing that life is play, until at last
They sink at anchor.
Sorrier still the wights
Whom poverty's distresses vainly goad,
Whose wants too grasping for their shiftless powers
Drive not to work but from it. This too hard
They deem, and that too slow, and ever seeking ease
And shunning toil, nor gold nor strength they win,
But weak, inapt, unskilled, incapable,
Their bitter cry assails the tranquil stars
While labor's trampling hosts surge over them.
To our dim sense God's plan seems often harsh.
Big fish eats small; earthquakes and storms destroy;
Greed strips the poor; guile plunders righteousness.
But watch! see empires fall; see greed o'erreach
Its lust! see power in fear of rival power
Raise up its subject strength, clothe hands with skill,
Teach minds to think; were strength not powerful
Whose need would nourish thew and burnish thought?
Could not the leader and the learner claim
Their effort's guerdon, on a stagnant earth
Successive races round and round might move,
But never forward. Wounds and wants and fears,
The seething urgency of discontent,
And groans and tears, grim tokens in themselves,
May help mankind fulfil its destiny.
Oh, Prodigal of means and men and time,
But in decree and aim immutable,
Our doom, black sometimes when we shrink from it.
Shines glorious when we face it sturdily,
And see the shaping and compelling hand
That leads who will be led and drives the rest.
And peopled it with men and mysteries,
With height and vale diversified its face,
Left beast to prey on beast and fish on fish,
Geared life to death, conditioned each on each,
Sore price of growth, but indispensable.
To poverty He gave its warning sting,
And poisoned luxury with seeds of sloth.
Gave power to strength that effort might attain:
Gave power to wit that knowledge might direct;
And so with penalties, incentives, gains,
Limits and compensations intricate,
He dowered this earth, that man should never rest
Save as his Maker's will be carried out.
On towards his destiny the creature drives,
Tumultuous, incessant, mutinous,
Usurping now his weaker fellow's share,
Yielding again his own to stronger might,
Aye seeking such a place or such a hoard
ThaThe and his the common lot may cheat,
And live unvexed by fate.
Vain wish! fond dream
That ever fades on eve of coming true!
There is no easy, unearned joy on earth
Save what God gives; — the lustiness of youth,
And love's dear pangs. All other joys we gain
By striving, and so qualified we are
That effort's zest our needs as much consoles
As effort's gain. Both issues are our due.
Sore lot it is to sweat and not be filled,
But sore as well aye to be filled, nor sweat.
Ever to plough and see another reap —
Oh, that is hard; but ease that stretches far
Beyond the space that labor's waste repairs,
Speeds to decay. Death lies hid in that,
And seeds of every sin that rots the strength
And stains the soul. Better when work is past
Back into dust dissolve and help a seed
Climb upwards, than with strength still full
Deny to God his claim and thwart his wish.
Fond fools with gold in store whose end they miss,
Glutted with unused opportunity,
Behold, drift idle on inglorious tides,
Nor ever trim a sail nor make a port;
Playing that life is play, until at last
They sink at anchor.
Sorrier still the wights
Whom poverty's distresses vainly goad,
Whose wants too grasping for their shiftless powers
Drive not to work but from it. This too hard
They deem, and that too slow, and ever seeking ease
And shunning toil, nor gold nor strength they win,
But weak, inapt, unskilled, incapable,
Their bitter cry assails the tranquil stars
While labor's trampling hosts surge over them.
To our dim sense God's plan seems often harsh.
Big fish eats small; earthquakes and storms destroy;
Greed strips the poor; guile plunders righteousness.
But watch! see empires fall; see greed o'erreach
Its lust! see power in fear of rival power
Raise up its subject strength, clothe hands with skill,
Teach minds to think; were strength not powerful
Whose need would nourish thew and burnish thought?
Could not the leader and the learner claim
Their effort's guerdon, on a stagnant earth
Successive races round and round might move,
But never forward. Wounds and wants and fears,
The seething urgency of discontent,
And groans and tears, grim tokens in themselves,
May help mankind fulfil its destiny.
Oh, Prodigal of means and men and time,
But in decree and aim immutable,
Our doom, black sometimes when we shrink from it.
Shines glorious when we face it sturdily,
And see the shaping and compelling hand
That leads who will be led and drives the rest.
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