A vale of tears, a wilderness of woe, A sad unmeaning mystery of strife; Reason with Passion strives, and Feeling ever Battles with Conscience, clear eyed arbiter. Thus spake I in sad mood not long ago, To my dear father, of this human life, Its jars and phantasies. Soft answered he, With soul of love strong as a mountain river: We make ourselves. Son, you are what you are Neither by fate nor providence nor cause External: all unformed humanity Waiteth the stamp of individual laws; And as you love and act, the plastic spirit Doth the impression evermore inherit. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON LORD HOLLAND'S SEAT NEAR MARGATE, KENT by THOMAS GRAY WHAT THE SONNET IS by EUGENE JACOB LEE-HAMILTON ODE (MUSIC-MAKERS) by ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O'SHAUGHNESSY SEASONS (1) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ONE PERSON: 16 by ELINOR WYLIE AUNT CAROLINE by ANNYE LEWIS ALLISON |