WHAT thousands never knew the road! What thousands hate it when 'tis known! None but the chosen tribes of God Will seek or choose it for their own. A thousand ways in ruin end, One only leads to joys on high; By that my willing steps ascend, Pleased with a journey to the sky. No more I ask or hope to find Delight or happiness below; Sorrow may well possess the mind That feeds where thorns and thistles grow. The joy that fades is not for me, I seek immortal joys above; There glory without end shall be The bright reward of faith and love. Cleave to the world, ye sordid worms, Contented lick your native dust! But God shall fight with all his storms Against the idol of your trust. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUATORZAINS: 5. TO NIGHT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF THE HALIBUT ON WHICH I DINED by WILLIAM COWPER A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON CHRISTMAS CAROL by SARA TEASDALE SONNET WRITTEN IN THE FALL OF 1914: 2 by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY THE SCHOLARS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): MEDEA'S DREAM by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |