Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear As valued friends. He cannot know The zest of life who runneth here His earthly race without a foe. I saw a prize. "Run," cried my friend; "'T is thine to claim without a doubt." But ere I half-way reached the end, I felt my strength was giving out. My foe looked on the while I ran; A scornful triumph lit his eyes. With that perverseness born in man, I nerved myself, and won the prize. All blinded by the crimson glow Of sin's disguise, I tempted Fate. "I knew thy weakness!" sneered my foe, I saved myself, and balked his hate. For half my blessings, half my gain, I needs must thank my trusty foe; Despite his envy and disdain, He serves me well where'er I go. So may I keep him to the end, Nor may his enmity abate; More faithful than the fondest friend, He guards me ever with his hate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN by WILLIAM MCKENDREE CARLETON TO JOHN KEATS, POET, AT SPRING TIME by COUNTEE CULLEN WITHOUT CEREMONY by THOMAS HARDY BLACK AND BLUE EYES by THOMAS MOORE AUTUMN WOODS by ANNA M. ACKERMANN TO HIS JEALOUS MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW |