The Choosing

“Here is life,” I said to my heart; “Shall thou and I take part In his battle and busy mart? Shall we follow the voices that call From 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 hour A 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 eyes And said: “In myself it lies To be more than a tool for gain-- Nay, Life, ye must bid again Ere I answer to your call.”

“What say you of honor, O Life? Has it room in the bitter strife With which your service is rife? Is there room for a soul to be All the best it can feel and see; To unfold its wings and arise?”

Then Life, with sphinx-like face, And smile wherein no trace Of answering had place; Said: “Take my gift, or leave it-- But know they that receive it Can make it what they will.”