Poems (Whitney)/The way appointed

by Anne Whitney

THE WAY APPOINTED.

Easily moved, easily swayed
  Hither and thither,
As easily hoping
  And dismayed.

Up in the clouds—over the hill,
  Higher and higher,
Down, down in the meadow,
  And lower still,

Shadows over me, far, afar—
  Moving and moving—
Dropping my eyelids,
  There too they are.

The sun, a golden key I win,
  Turning and turning,
Opes the sweet heavens
  And lets me in.

Lovers, 'tis true, lovers a score;
  Sighing and sighing;
One, right one, were better,
  Yet, fate, send me more.

Friends leave me, how, I cannot tell;
  Yearning and yearning,
Others rise after,
  Loved as well.

In blasted hopes new ones thrive;
  Joying and grieving,
Ephemerals wholly
  Help me to live.

Mother, she planned—Father with strife
  Planted and watered—
For what, are you asking?
  To fit me to life.

World, said I, your tasks I do not refuse;
  Take me and try me;
Turn me and mould me,
  And put me to use.

Millers the water, sailors the wind;
  Headfull and heartfull—
You will not? dull world, you,—
  Then go—never mind.

Vainly I veil—your eyes shoot between;
  Fairly and frankly,
I am a maiden
  Turned of eighteen.