Poem by Francis Bret Harte

Fate

"The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare,
The spray of the tempest is white in air;
The winds are out with the waves at play,
And I shall not tempt the sea to-day.

“The trail is narrow, the wood is dim,
The panther clings to the arching limb;
And the lion`s whelps are abroad at play,
And I shall not join in the chase to-day.”

But the ship sailed safely over the sea,
And the hunters came from the chase in glee;
And the town that was builded upon a rock
Was swallowed up in the earthquake shock.

1. ”How Are You, Sanitary?”
2. On William Francis Bartlett
3. Madrono
4. Grandmother Tenterden
5. The Latest Chinese Outrage

Ralph Emerson Fate ("DEEP in the man sits fast his fate")

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