Not in the fabled influence of some star, <br />Benign or evil, do our fortunes lie; <br />We are the arbiters of destiny, <br />Lords of the life we either make or mar. <br />We are our own impediment and bar <br />To noble endings. With distracted eye <br />We let the golden moment pass us by, <br />Time's foolish spendthrifts, searching wide and far <br />For what lies close at hand. To serve our turn <br />We ask fair wind and favorable tide. <br />From the dead Danish sculptor let us learn <br />To make Occasion, not to be denied: <br />Against the sheer precipitous mountain-side <br />Thorwaldsen carved his Lion at Lucerne.<br /><br />Thomas Bailey Aldrich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thorwaldsen/
