I fought, I rebelled; I was bitter. I strove To outwit the great Cosmic Forces, above, Or beyond, or about us, who guide and control The course of all things from the moat to the soul. 

 The river may envy the peace of the pond, But law drives it out to the ocean beyond. If it roars down abysses, or laughs through the land, It follows the way which the Forces have planned. 

 So man is directed. His only the choice To help or to hinder—to weep or rejoice. But vain is refusal—and vain discontent, For at last he must walk in the way that was meant. 

 My way leads through shadow, alone to the end I must work out my karma, and follow its trend. I must fulfill the purpose, whatever it be, And look not for peace till I merge in God's sea. 

 Though bankrupt in joy, still my life has its gain; I have climbed the last round in the ladder of pain. There is nothing to dread. I have drained sorrow's cup And can laugh as I fling it at Fate bottom up. 

 I have missed what I sought; yet I missed not the whole. The best part of love is in loving. My soul Is enriched by its prodigal gifts. Still, to give And to ask no return, is my lot while I live. 

 Such love may be blindness, but where are love's eyes? Such love may be folly, love seldom is wise. Such love may be madness, was love ever sane? Such love must be sorrow, for all love is pain. 

 Love goes where it must go, and in its own season. Love cannot be banished by will or by reason. Love gave back your freedom, it keeps me its slave. I shall walk in its fetters, unloved, to my grave. 

 So be it. What right has the ant, in the dust, To cry that the world is all wrong, and unjust, Because the swift foot of a messenger trod Down the home, and the hopes, that were built in the sod? 

 What is man but an ant, in this universe scheme? Though dear his ambition, and precious his dream, God's messengers speed all unseen on their way, And the plans of a lifetime go down in a day. 

 No matter. The aim of the Infinite mind, Which lies back of it all, must be great, must be kind. Can the ant or the man, though ingenious and wise, Swing the tides of the sea—set a star in the skies? 

 Can man fling a million of worlds into space, To whirl on their orbits with system and grace? Can he color a sunset, or create a seed, Or fashion one leaf of the commonest weed? 

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