Not his the part to win the goal,
The flaming goal that flies before,
Into whose course the apples roll
Of self that stay his feet the more.
Beyond himself he shall not win
Whose flesh is as a driven dust,
That his own soul must wander in,
Seeing no farther than his lust.
Unqualified
Madison Julius Cawein
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Poem topics: lust, soul, stay, dust, goal, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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