While love and wisdom are the earthly prize
I aim to win and fully realize
In every act and moment all my days,
There’s that within which balks and disobeys.
The golden goal I promise to pursue
I’ll struggle toward, but then that good undo
By growing fearful, mad, recalcitrant
And proving that my heart’s not true but bent.
Likewise, my goal of wisdom comes to nought
When I refuse to reason as I ought
But choose in haste on impulse what I should
Deliberate, discerning what is good.
For all my virtuous intent, I veer
In practices compelled by foolish fear.