Explore "Duty's Path" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Out from the harbour of youth's bay / There leads the path of pleasure; / With eager steps we walk that way / To brim joy's largest measure. / But when with morn's departing beam / Goes youth's last precious minute, / We sigh "Twas but a fevered dream- / There's nothing in it."
Then on our vision dawns afar / The goal of glory, gleaming / Like some great radiant solar star, / And sets us longing, dreaming. / Forgetting all things left behind, / We strain each nerve to win it, / But when 'tis ours-alas! we find / There's nothing in it.
We turn our sad, reluctant gaze / Upon the path of duty; / Its barren, uninviting ways / Are void of bloom and beauty. / Yet in that road, though dark and cold, / It seems as we begin it, / As we press on-lo! we behold / There's Heaven in it.