The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse
AspirationPeter McArthur (18661924)
H
When every nerve is vibrant to the sweep
Of dreams that fill the measure of my days,
Too rare to lose and past all power to keep.
How should I know what it were well to do?
When every path has its alluring strain,
Each towering crest its world-revealing view
Of realms for him who has the will to reign.
Wherein is breathed the swift compelling fire,
Breaks with the ardour it was shaped to guard;
Yet, ever striving, dream-led, I aspire,
Ere all be spent, with reverent hands to light
A guiding star on some hope-kindling height.