Ye who are kicking against Fate,Tell me how it is that on this hill-sideRunning down to the river,Which fronts the sun and the south-wind,This plant draws from the air and soilPoison and becomes poison ivy?And this plant draws from the same air and soilSweet elixirs and colors and becomes arbutus?And both flourish?You may blame Spoon River for what it is,But whom do you blame for the will in youThat feeds itself and makes you dock-weed,Jimpson, dandelion or mullenAnd which can never use any soil or airSo as to make you jessamine or wistaria?
Spoon River Anthology · Edgar Lee Masters