 | Poems |  |
70
Vocation
This day with careful courage have I swornMy feet no more shall stagger after praise,
Climbing the long denial's precipitous ways;
These poor foolhardy feet, bare, bruised, and torn,
Henceforward shall be shod for paths of scorn;
Then, though I clamber upward all my days
And never reach the summit, where the bays
And myrtles beckon, waiting to be worn,
Yet shall I never faint, until I die.
From God the impulse sprang, from God it springs,
To mount into the distance, far and high
Beyond the dusty coop of common things;
But now I know that feet can never fly,
And only from our sandals grow our wings.
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