To catch the spirit in its wayward flight Through mazes manifold, what task supreme! For when to floods has grown the quiet stream, Much human skill must aid its rage to fight; And when wild winds invade the solemn night, Seems not man's vaunted power but a dream? And still more futile, ay, we e'en must deem This quest to tame the soul, and guide aright Its restless wanderings, - to lure it back To shoals of calm. Full many a moan and sigh Attend the strife; till, effort merged in prayer, Oft uttered, clung to - when of strength the lack Seems direst - brings the answer to our cry: A gift from Him who lifts our ev'ry care. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOUR QUARTETS: BURNT NORTON by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT A VISION OF CONNAUGHT IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN A FRAGMENT FROM THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLOS by AESCHYLUS THE TUTELAGE by ROBERT MOWRY BELL ON READING THAT THE REBUILDING OF YPRES APPROACHED COMPLETION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING by ANNE CHARLOTTE LYNCH BOTTA SWEET WEARINESS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |