Джон Таунсенд Троубридж (John Townsend Trowbridge)

Circumstance

STALKING before the lords of life, one came,
  A Titan shape! But often he will crawl,
  Their most subservient, helpful humble thrall;
Swift as the light, or sluggish, laggard, lame;
Stony-eyed archer, launching without aim
  Arrows and lightnings, heedless how they fall,--
  Blind Circumstance, that makes or baffles all,
Happiness, length of days, power, riches, fame.
Could we but take each winged chance aright!
  A timely word let fall, a wind-blown germ,
    May crown our glebe with many a golden sheaf; 
A thought may touch and edge our life with light,
  Fill all its sphere, as yonder crescent worm
    Brightens upon the old moon's dusky leaf.

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