Coerced by Furies who persuaded me
That life was imminent with idleness,
Their jibes made mad, their lashes aided me
To grasp the accident of bitterness.
Come storm! I cried, come passion and despair,
For calm inhibits growth!— I called on fire
To sear my comfortable days, and wear
The nights to wastes of torment and desire.
Then pausing breathless, in a little wood
I met with Wisdom laughing in the sun;
She said, “Lie still, for idleness is good,
And grow in peace as I myself have done.”