Page:Poems Whitney.djvu/104

In blasted hopes new ones thrive;
  Joying and grieving,
Ephemerals wholly
  Help me to live.

Mother, she planned—Father with strife
  Planted and watered—
For what, are you asking?
  To fit me to life.

World, said I, your tasks I do not refuse;
  Take me and try me;
Turn me and mould me,
  And put me to use.

Millers the water, sailors the wind;
  Headfull and heartfull—
You will not? dull world, you,—
  Then go—never mind.