SAIL not too far to be safe, O Licinius! Neither too close to the shore should you steer Rashness is foolish, and how ignominious Cowardly fear! He who possesses nor palace nor hovel (My little flat would be half way between) Hasn't a house at which paupers must grovel Yet it is clean. Shaken by winds is the pine that is tallest; Ever the summit is bared to the flash; The bigger thou art, so the harder thou fallest— Cracketty crash! He who in famine can hope for the manna, He who in plenty fears poverty's chafe— He is the proper, the true Pollyanna, Playing it safe. Jupiter, bringing the bleak, bitter, raw gust Also remembers to take it away; He is the god of December ... but August— April ... but May When you have creditors suing to pay them Four-to-an-ace is the way to invest; But when you win every pot, you should play them Close to your chest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOUNTAIN by HAYDEN CARRUTH FRAGMENTARY BLUE by ROBERT FROST TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 2 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH SURFACES AND MASKS; 4 by CLARENCE MAJOR DOMESDAY BOOK: BARRETT BAYS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |