YE who are kicking against Fate, Tell me how it is that on this hill-side, Running down to the river, Which fronts the sun and the south-wind, This plant draws from the air and soil Poison and becomes poison ivy? And this plant draws from the same air and soil Sweet elixirs and colors and becomes arbutus? And both flourish? You may blame Spoon River for what it is, But whom do you blame for the will in you That feeds itself and makes you dock-weed, Jimpson, dandelion or mullen And which can never use any soil or air So as to make you jessamine or wistaria? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOW TIDE ON GRAND-PRE by BLISS CARMAN A MORNING HYMN by CHARLES WESLEY NOVEMBER, 1806 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH DANAIDES: THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND EARTH by AESCHYLUS ON CYNTHIA, SINGING A RECITATIVE PIECE OF MUSIC by PHILIP AYRES |