Sonnet

I would not tarry if I could be gone Adown the path where calls my eager mind. That fate which knows naught but to grip and bind Holds me within its grasp, a helpless pawn, And checks my steps when I would travel on. Forever shall my body lag behind, And in this valley with the moaning wind Must I abide with never a glimpse of dawn? Though bends my body towards the yawning sod, I can endure the pain, the sorrows rife, That hold me fast beneath their chastening rod, If from this turmoil and this endless strife, Comes there a light to lead man nearer God, And guide his footsteps toward the Larger Life.