 | Poems |  |
42
The Danger of the Individual Ideal
Let not the peaks allure thee! Not becauseThe strain and struggle of the upward way
May prove too hard for spirits cloyed with clay;
That common curse gives every climber pause;
But lest, enamoured of thy self-applause,
Or praise of God or man, thou go astray,
Until thou meet thy real self at bay,
The avenging seraph of resisted laws!
The legend “By sincerity excel”
Burns on his brow; from which thou must retire
Along the backward path, now fringed with fire
And set with serpents and strange snares of hell,
To seek the valley of thy true desire,
Roofed with white stars and paved with asphodel.
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