Poems (Kennedy)/Free Agents
FREE AGENTS
IT is with us to choose—
The path
That runs through lush of bloom that grows
(In stress of passing days)
To fruits forbidden; or the stony track
Down which no scented zephyr blows.
There is no road between.
The path
That runs through lush of bloom that grows
(In stress of passing days)
To fruits forbidden; or the stony track
Down which no scented zephyr blows.
There is no road between.
God draws the clear-cut trails,
And then
Throws us the chart, nor makes a sign,
Nor lifts a warning hand
To bind our judgment either way—
We follow as we may incline—
The masters of our fate.
And then
Throws us the chart, nor makes a sign,
Nor lifts a warning hand
To bind our judgment either way—
We follow as we may incline—
The masters of our fate.
And in Forbidden Lands
We quaff
The 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.
We quaff
The 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 where
Cool lilies lean, and roses blossom red,
And star-eyed Peace abides.
We choose,
The stones shall blossom where we tread
And leave a trail of Love;
And even-song shall find us where
Cool lilies lean, and roses blossom red,
And star-eyed Peace abides.