SOUL! that may'st have been divine, Now I claim and take thee mine; Now thy own true bliss will be In thy loyalty to me. Though thou seemest without stain, There is evil in thy grain; Thou hast tasted of the fruit Of which Knowledge is the root. So I must not let thee rest, Lull'd on Faith's maternal breast; Faith and Fancy mar the plan Of the making of a man. So thy tender heart I bare To Ambition's frosty air; So I plunge thee deep in doubt, That thou may'st grow hard and stout. So I bid the eager Boy Sense in every form enjoy; Stinting not the moment's pleasure, Save to gain some fuller measure. Thou wilt lose at last the zest, Thou wilt need some higher quest; Then I bid thee rise a Man, And I aid thee all I can. Fix thee on some worthy aim, Proving danger, fronting shame; Knowing only friends or foes, As they speed thee or oppose: Trampling with thy rapid feet Feelings fond and pleas discreet; Only for excuses sue In the great things thou canst do. If what shone afar so grand, Turn to nothing in thy hand, On, again -- the virtue lies In the struggle, not the prize; Only rest not: failure-curst Turn to Pleasure at the worst; That may calm thy conscience-cry -- Death may give thee peace, not I. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PROVING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 3. TEESTAY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE LAST WISH by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER MOLLY PITCHER [JUNE 28, 1778] by KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD AMORETTI: 68 by EDMUND SPENSER TO THE DAISY (2) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |