Classic Poem

Why vex thy soul with discontent?
Wait passively as flowers do,
With every morning will be sent
The silver sunbeams and the dew.

The thought of other minds will fall
With pregnant influence on thine,
And on thy leaves and petals all
The light of other lives will shine.

And Love will fan thee evermore
With scented breezes from the South,
And Death will thrill thee to the core,
Kissing thee with an icy mouth.

Thou must be made as buds are made,
And live the life that God ordains,
Nursed by the sunshine and the shade,
Shaped by the breezes and the rains,

And sombre night, and sunny days,
And lightning-flash, and thunder-roll,
Ripened in all the divers ways,
In which are made a living soul,

Till in the autumn-time of Death
God makes at last thine ignorance wise,
And takes from thee the futile breath,
And gives thee spiritual eyes.

Meantime, if active service seem
Forbidden thee by perverse Fate,
Be patient. Rest awhile and dream.
“They also serve who stand and wait.”

Actions are weak. To thee belong
Uses than actions nobler far—
The splendid service of a song,
The golden purpose of a star.

Tho' passively thy life must grow
Rooted and trammelled to the sod,
Thy blossoms by their beauty show
The beauty of the mind of God.

So, Lady fair, I wish for thee,
Nor knowledge, nor material power,
But the superb serenity,
The healthy growing of a flower.