poem

‘Tis the set of the sail

Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1916

But not every mind there openeth,

A way, and a way, and a way.

A high soul climbs the highway,

And the low soul gropes the low,

And in between on the misty flats,

The rest drift to and fro.

But to every man there openeth,

A high way and a low

And every mind decideth,

The way his soul shall go.

One ship sails east

And another west,

By the self-same wind that blow,

‘Tis the set of the sails

And not the gales,

That tells the way we go.

Like the winds on the sea

Are the waves of time,

As we journey along through life,

‘Tis the set of the soul,

That determines the goal,

And not the calm or the strife.