STREAM of my life, dull, placid river, flow! <br />I have no fear of the ingulfing seas: <br />Neither I look before me nor behind, <br />But, lying mute with wave-dipped hand, float on. <br /> <br />It was not always so. My brethren, see <br />This oar-stained, trembling palm. It keeps the sign <br />Of youth's mad wrestling with the waves that drift <br />Immutably, eternally along. <br /> <br />I would have had them flow through fields and flowers, <br />Giving and taking freshness, perfume, joy; <br />It winds through--here. Be silent, O my soul! <br />--The finger of God's wisdom drew its line. <br /> <br />So I lean back and look up to the stars, <br />And count the ripples circling to the shore, <br />And watch the solemn river rolling on <br />Until it widen to the open seas.<br /><br />Dinah Maria Mulock Craik<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-old-idea/
