Men choose a crystal goblet filled with wine, That thirst and sense of beauty in all haste May be indulged; but soon the wine is spilled Or proves unpleasant to the sated taste; The crystal chasteness of the goblet slow Grows dimmer, and thus beauty is a loss; And man full weary, to the wayside flings That wealth of pleasure which has turned to dross, Close hugs a wooden bowl -- no substitute For grace and radiance -- and with pleading eyes, Begs his Creator humbly to send down One drop of water from the plenteous skies; God grants the boon, man drinks and is content. Most men refuse to tread on this or that, In their attempts to climb where angels are; Some fain would walk on roses, some on down, Some reach on waves of light the nearest star; But from the devious modes that they devise, One has adjusted been to ev'ry need; The fiat born of Wisdom goeth forth, And man must reck not that his feet will bleed; Nor dare to say in lofty arrogance, "Walk thou in that path, I will walk in this!" For he who would attain where angels bathe Their willing souls in affluence of bliss, Must climb on @3Patience'@1 ladder up to God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A VOICE FROM THE SWEAT-SHOPS (A HYMN WITH RESPONSES) by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE LION'S RIDE by FERDINAND FREILIGRATH ON A MOURNER by ALFRED TENNYSON WHEN YOU ARE OLD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |