YE who are kicking against Fate, Tell me how it is that on this hill-side, Running down to the river, Which fronts the sun and the south-wind, This plant draws from the air and soil Poison and becomes poison ivy? And this plant draws from the same air and soil Sweet elixirs and colors and becomes arbutus? And both flourish? You may blame Spoon River for what it is, But whom do you blame for the will in you That feeds itself and makes you dock-weed, Jimpson, dandelion or mullen And which can never use any soil or air So as to make you jessamine or wistaria? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEAUTIFUL MEALS by THOMAS STURGE MOORE ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 74 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE DISCIPLE by DWIGHT JAQUES BRADLEY A LEGEND OF THE DELAWARES by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE HIGHLAND LASSIE by ROBERT BURNS ON THE QUEEN'S RETURN FROM THE LOW CONTRIES by WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT |