I O, WELL for him whose will is strong! He suffers, but he will not suffer long; He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong. For him nor moves the loud world's random mock, Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, Who seems a promontory of rock, That, compass'd round with turbulent sound, In middle ocean meets the surging shock, Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd. II But ill for him who, bettering not with time, Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will, And ever weaker grows thro' acted crime, Or seeming-genial venial fault, Recurring and suggesting still! He seems as one whose footsteps halt, Toiling in immeasurable sand, And o'er a weary sultry land, Far beneath a blazing vault, Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill, The city sparkles like a grain of salt. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE SALE BY AUCTION OF KEATS' LOVE LETTERS by OSCAR WILDE ROSAMOND: KING HENRY'S SONG by JOSEPH ADDISON THE BURIAL OF LOVE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT HOW DID YOU DIE by EDMUND VANCE COOKE THE FOUR AGES by WILLIAM COWPER TALES OF THE HALL: BOOK 11. THE MAID'S STORY by GEORGE CRABBE THE HURRICANE by PHILIP FRENEAU |