John Taylor "The Water Poet"

For man is man, and master of his fate.

For man is man, and master of his fate.

As the sweet voice of a bird,
Heard by the lander in a lonely isle,
Moves him read more

As the sweet voice of a bird,
Heard by the lander in a lonely isle,
Moves him to think what kind of bird it is,
That sings so delicately clear, and make
Conjecture of the plumage and the form.

Fall back upon a name? rest, rot in that?
Not keep it noble, make it nobler? Fools!

Fall back upon a name? rest, rot in that?
Not keep it noble, make it nobler? Fools!

And there is a worm in the lonely wood,
That pierces the liver and blackens the blood,
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And there is a worm in the lonely wood,
That pierces the liver and blackens the blood,
And makes it a sorrow to be.

I sit within a helmless bark.

I sit within a helmless bark.