Will

There is no chance, no destiny, no fate,     

 Can circumvent or hinder or control  

    The firm resolve of a determined soul.

Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great;

 All things give way before it, soon or late.    

  What obstacle can stay the mighty force   

   Of the sea-seeking river in its course,

 Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait?

Each well-born soul must win what it deserves.

Let the fool prate of luck.

 The fortunate Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves, 

 Whose slightest action or inaction serves

The one great aim. Why, even Death stands still,

And waits an hour sometimes for such a will.

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s