You think the stream of life is flowing solely
To bear you to the goal you’re aiming at—
But you may find yourself mistaken wholly.
As for your song, perhaps it’s most poetic,
Perhaps it’s not—on that point we won’t quarrel—
But here I lodge a protest energetic,
Say what you will, against its wretched moral.
A masterly economy and new
To let the birds play havoc at their pleasure
Among your fruit-trees, fruitless now for you,