Poems (Jackson)/Danger
For works with similar titles, see Danger.
DANGER.
ITH what a childish and short-sighted senseFear seeks for safety; reckons up the daysOf danger and escape, the hours and waysOf death; it breathless flies the pestilence;It walls itself in towers of defence;By land, by sea, against the storm it laysDown barriers; then, comforted, it says:"This spot, this hour is safe." Oh, vain pretence!Man born of man knows nothing when he goes;The winds blow where-they list, and will discloseTo no man which brings safety, which brings risk.The mighty are brought low by many a thingToo small to name. Beneath the daisy's diskLies hid the pebble for the fatal sling.