Deep in the man sits fast his fate <br />To mould his fortunes, mean or great: <br />Unknown to Cromwell as to me <br />Was Cromwell's measure or degree; <br />Unknown to him as to his horse, <br />If he than his groom be better or worse. <br />He works, plots, fights, in rude affairs, <br />With squires, lords, kings, his craft compares, <br />Till late he learned, through doubt and fear, <br />Broad England harbored not his peer: <br />Obeying time, the last to own <br />The Genius from its cloudy throne. <br />For the prevision is allied <br />Unto the thing so signified; <br />Or say, the foresight that awaits <br />Is the same Genius that creates.<br /><br />Ralph Waldo Emerson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fate/
