THE CHOOSING
“Here is life,” I said to my heart;“Shall thou and I take partIn his battle and busy mart?Shall we follow the voices that callFrom temple and workshop and hall:‘Lo, brother, we bid thee come?’”“There is pleasure in palace and bower;There is gold for our winning, and power;And fame—for an idle hourA bauble to tempt the best.Shall we make us one with the rest,And attempt, and achieve—or fail?”But my heart, grown sudden wise,Looked out from steadfast eyesAnd said: “In myself it liesTo be more than a tool for gain—Nay, Life, ye must bid againEre I answer to your call.”“What say you of honor, O Life?Has it room in the bitter strifeWith which your service is rife?Is there room for a soul to beAll the best it can feel and see;To unfold its wings and arise?”Then Life, with sphinx-like face,And smile wherein no traceOf answering had place;Said: “Take my gift, or leave it—But know they that receive itCan make it what they will.”