Explore "Fortune" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Within the hollowed hand of God, / Blood-red they lie, the dice of fate, / That have no time nor period, / And know no early and no late.
Postpone you can not, nor advance / Success or failure that's to be; / All fortune, being born of chance, / Is bastard-child to destiny.
Bow down your head, or hold it high, / Consent, defy -- no smallest part / Of this you change, although the die / Was fashioned from your living heart.