IX.
AA VALE of tears, a wilderness of woe,A sad unmeaning mystery of strife;Reason with Passion strives, and Feeling everBattles with Conscience, clear eyed arbiter.Thus spake I in sad mood not long ago,To my dear father, of this human life,Its jars and phantasies. Soft answered he,With soul of love strong as a mountain river:We make ourselves—Son, you are what you areNeither by fate nor providence nor causeExternal: all unformed humanityWaiteth the stamp of individual laws;And as you love and act, the plastic spiritDoth the impression evermore inherit.
AA VALE of tears, a wilderness of woe,A sad unmeaning mystery of strife;Reason with Passion strives, and Feeling everBattles with Conscience, clear eyed arbiter.Thus spake I in sad mood not long ago,To my dear father, of this human life,Its jars and phantasies. Soft answered he,With soul of love strong as a mountain river:We make ourselves—Son, you are what you areNeither by fate nor providence nor causeExternal: all unformed humanityWaiteth the stamp of individual laws;And as you love and act, the plastic spiritDoth the impression evermore inherit.
AA VALE of tears, a wilderness of woe,A sad unmeaning mystery of strife;Reason with Passion strives, and Feeling everBattles with Conscience, clear eyed arbiter.Thus spake I in sad mood not long ago,To my dear father, of this human life,Its jars and phantasies. Soft answered he,With soul of love strong as a mountain river:We make ourselves—Son, you are what you areNeither by fate nor providence nor causeExternal: all unformed humanityWaiteth the stamp of individual laws;And as you love and act, the plastic spiritDoth the impression evermore inherit.
A