A vale of tears, a wilderness of woe

A vale of tears, a wilderness of woe, A sad unmeaning mystery of strife; Reason with Passion strives, and Feeling ever Battles 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 are Neither by fate nor providence nor cause External: all unformed humanity Waiteth the stamp of individual laws; And as you love and act, the plastic spirit Doth the impression evermore inherit.