Poems (Hoffman)/Life's Possibilities
LIFE'S POSSIBILITIES.
O could I have the choosingOf what my life should be,I would make it all so lovely,So grand, and broad, and free,So strong in its high endeavor,So sweet in its harmony.Over and over and overWill the useless wish repeat,I have hushed it, bravely crushed itLike a flower beneath my feet,But only to make its fragranceGrow stronger and more sweet.What would my life be think youCould I sit me down and planFor myself each year and momentThat maketh the earthly span?O, the perfect joy of livingWith never a pain or care,With never a blighted prospect,And never a chill despair,With never a weary burden,Of thankless toil to bear!I would make it a path of beauty,Where loveliest flowers would grow;I would make it a path of dutyWhere an angel would gladly go,I would cast all the sin and sorrow,All the dread of my heart aside,No evil to bear or borrow,No triumph to be denied;I would spend all the days in winningLife's noblest and grandest good,I would miss all the clouds that darken The promise of womanhood;Life is a strange awakening,And death is a stranger sleep;We wake from our infant slumber,And from childhood's roseate dream,To learn at first vaguely and dimlyThat things are not what they seem;That the bright coals are hot and burningThat our eager fingers grasp,That we cannot prison the sunbeamsThat our hands so long to clasp;And later, that disappointmentAnd pain are the price of breath,And one day we wake to ponderThe dread, dread mystery of death;And thicker and faster around usLife's problems like snowflakes fall,'Till they weigh us down with their burden,And cover us with their pall;But the future is dark beyond me,Not a single year can I plot,I must do the best before me,Make the most of my given lot;Take the pleasure and pain of livingWith a cheerful heart and strong,Nourish the good within me,And trample the sin and wrong,And strive, though my feeble striving,Win never a longed-for prize;And live, though the boon of livingBe death in a strange disguise.Forgetting the ideal splendor,The "might-be," and the "wish," and "guess,"And the little "ifs" that flutterLike rose-petals on the grass.