Poems (Kennedy)/Free Agents
FREE AGENTS
IT is with us to choose— The pathThat runs through lush of bloom that grows (In stress of passing days)To fruits forbidden; or the stony trackDown which no scented zephyr blows. There is no road between.
God draws the clear-cut trails, And thenThrows us the chart, nor makes a sign, Nor lifts a warning handTo bind our judgment either way—We follow as we may incline— The masters of our fate.
And in Forbidden Lands We quaffThe purple wine of mad desire And go unsatisfied;And in the twilight come, athirst and sad,To dreary wastes scorched as with fire, And find but Pain at last.
But if the arid path We choose,The stones shall blossom where we tread And leave a trail of Love;And even-song shall find us whereCool lilies lean, and roses blossom red, And star-eyed Peace abides.