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Excerpt from What Cheer or Roger Williams in Banishment: A Poem
But soon the transient dream of youth was gone, And different labors to our lots were given, You at the shrine of peace and glory shone, Sublime your toils, for still your theme was Heaven, I, upon life's tempestuous billows thrown, A little bark before the tempest driven, Strove for a time the surging tide to breast, And up its rolling mountains sought for rest.
Wearied at length with the unceasing strife, I gave my pinnace to the harbor's lee, And left that ocean, still with tempests rife, To mad ambition's heartless rivalry, NO longer venturing for exalted life, (for storms and quicksands have no charms for me,) I, in the listless labors of the swain, Provoke no turmoil and awake no pain.
But soon the transient dream of youth was gone, And different labors to our lots were given, You at the shrine of peace and glory shone, Sublime your toils, for still your theme was Heaven, I, upon life's tempestuous billows thrown, A little bark before the tempest driven, Strove for a time the surging tide to breast, And up its rolling mountains sought for rest.
Wearied at length with the unceasing strife, I gave my pinnace to the harbor's lee, And left that ocean, still with tempests rife, To mad ambition's heartless rivalry, NO longer venturing for exalted life, (for storms and quicksands have no charms for me,) I, in the listless labors of the swain, Provoke no turmoil and awake no pain.