Fate

The rose and thorn may spring up side by side 
   And spread their leaves together to the day, 
   Warmed into life by one impartial ray;
And when o’er earth the misty shadows glide
Drink in alike the dew at eventide,
   While lightly stirring to the soft wind's sway 
   In the same breath their quivering leaflets play;
The winds awake and. rudely hurry past,—
   The thorn unharmed in greeness will remain,
While the fair flower is broken by the blast, 
   And all its leaves are scattered o'er the plain;
Thus Vice and Virtue, are your fortunes cast, 
And Grime and Beauty,—Death the foul will spare 
While his relentless hand plucks up the good and fair.

We launch our fortunes on a stormy sea,
   Wealth, Honor, Fame, or what we will, we seek, 
   Pressing through dangers neither few, nor weak;
All that we are, all that we would be 
Entrusting to the false waves' perfidy:
   What matters,—when our barks, high on the peak 
   Of mountain seas are flung, and the storms wreak 
Their wrath upon our heads,—how gorgeously
   Our creaking shrouds, and bending spars are dock'd ;
Greatness and worth will save us not; full oft 
   The bark rich fraught and beautiful is wreck'd, 
While borne unshattered on the waves aloft, 
The unladen'd boat rides on companionless,
Saved from a darker fate by its own worthlessness.