And some there be—poor, self-deluded souls! Who shackle life i' the Stoics' trammelling bands, Believing that so far as each controls His bent for pleasure, so the soul expands— Such the pale creed Philosophy commands! But those who bow to this inclement god May find it break them with an iron rod! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOURNEY TO A KNOWN PLACE by HAYDEN CARRUTH WHEN I WROTE A LITTLE by HAYDEN CARRUTH PUSSY-WILLOW TIME by ROBERT FROST LET ME NOT LOSES MY DREAM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SAVORING THE PAST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO OUR MOCKING-BIRD; DIED OF A CAT, MAY, 1878 by SIDNEY LANIER |