Who is content? Surely not I. My surging soul seems to command That I with Pegasus should fly And reach some high and noble land Where mountains rise and torrents swell, Where giants build and nought is small, Where genii of learning dwell, Where thought is might, and love is all. Who is content? Not he who holds That God intended man to tear Aside the veil which He enfolds Around each blessing He would share, Who holds that man was born to reign O'er earth supreme, by God's decree, And that he has the strength to gain Dominion over land and sea. Who is content? Not he who flies On yonder graceful, bird-like wings, Who mounts and rises towards the skies, And in exultant triumph sings, His conquest of the boundless air Contents him not; his hope is set On goals which only reckless dare, The unattainable as yet. Who is content? Not those who seek The germs of pestilence and death, Which rob the bloom from manhood's cheek, And steal away the infant's breath. Contentment never will be theirs Until disease and mortal pain And miseries to which we're heirs Are all dispelled and none remain. Who is content? The sluggard? Yes, The man who loves his rest and ease, The man who yearns not to possess The things which do the mighty please. The man who leans and does not lift, The man who is indifferent, The man who with the tide doth drift, The sluggard? Yes,—he is content. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EARTH-CHILD IN THE GRASS by KATHERINE MANSFIELD FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE by EMMA LAZARUS TO AN EARLY DAFFODIL; SONNET by AMY LOWELL DOMEDAY BOOK: JOHN CAMPBELL AND CARL EATON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |