poem

poem

‘Tis the set of the sail

Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1916

But not every mind there openeth,

A way, and a way, and a way.

A high soul climbs the highway,

And the low soul gropes the low,

And in between on the misty flats,

The rest drift to and fro.

But to every man there openeth,

A high way and a low

And every mind decideth,

The way his soul shall go.

one ship east,

and another west,

bye the self-same winds that blow,

and not the gales,

that tells the way we go.

like the winds of the sea

 are the waves of time,

as we journey along through life,

'tis the set of the soul, 

that determines the goals, 

and not the calm or the strife.

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