Mortal mixed of middle clay, <br />Attempered to the night and day, <br />Interchangeable with things, <br />Needs no amulets nor rings. <br />Guy possessed the talisman <br />That all things from him began, <br />And as, of old, Polycrates <br />Chained the sunshine and the breeze, <br />So did Guy betimes discover <br />Fortune was his guard and lover; <br />In strange junctures, felt with awe <br />His own symmetry with law, <br />That no mixture could withstand <br />The virtue of his lucky hand. <br />He gold or jewel could not lose, <br />Nor not receive his ample dues; <br />In the street, if he turned round, <br />His eye the eye 'twas seeking found. <br />It seemed his Genius discreet <br />Worked on the Maker's own receipt, <br />And made each tide and element <br />Stewards of stipend and of rent; <br />So that the common waters fell <br />As costly wine into his well. <br />He had so sped his wise affairs <br />That he caught nature in his snares; <br />Early or late, the falling rain <br />Arrived in time to swell his grain; <br />Stream could not so perversely wind, <br />But corn of Guy's was there to grind; <br />The whirlwind found it on its way <br />To speed his sails, to dry his hay; <br />And the world's sun seemed to rise <br />To drudge all day for Guy the wise. <br />In his rich nurseries, timely skill <br />Strong crab with nobler blood did fill; <br />The Zephyr in his garden rolled <br />From plum trees vegetable gold; <br />And all the hours of the year <br />With their own harvest hovered were: <br />There was no frost but welcome came, <br />Nor freshet, nor midsummer flame; <br />Belonged to wind and world the toil <br />And venture, and to Guy the oil.<br /><br />Ralph Waldo Emerson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/guy-2/
