Had I my choice of all that this world holds
Of good or bad, or what lies in between
To call my own, or be–what would it mean?
How choose between the stuff the rich man folds
Or knowledge that the garret’s suffering molds?
Diverging forks would rear their heads unseen
Till then. Which, playboy only fit to preen-
Or scientist who battles plagues and colds?
The skill the clever craftsman’ s genius owns,
Or know the peace that comes to lesser minds?
The one so “blessed”, then, holds his head and groans,
To see the labyrinth disclosed as time unwinds .
I’ll fight the fight , 0 Fate, as you decree
It; choosing were the greater task for me.
by Ray Romine Thursday, November 9, 1950
