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Ella Wheeler Wilcox - Advice
Work rating: Medium

I must do as you do? Your way I own 
      Is a very good way, and still, 
There are sometimes two straight roads to a town, 
      One over, one under the hill.

You are treading the safe and the well-worn way, 
      That the prudent choose each time; 
And you think me reckless and rash to-day 
      Because I prefer to climb.

Your path is the right one, and so is mine. 
      We are not like peas in a pod, 
Compelled to lie in a certain line, 
      Or else be scattered abroad.

`T were a dull old world, methinks, my friend, 
      If we all just went one way; 
Yet our paths will meet no doubt at the end, 
      Though they lead apart today.

You like the shade, and I like the sun; 
      You like an even pace, 
I like to mix with the crowd and run, 
      And then rest after the race.

I like danger, and storm, and strife, 
      You like a peaceful time; 
I like the passion and surge of life, 
      You like its gentle rhyme.

You like buttercups, dewy sweet, 
      And crocuses, framed in snow; 
I like roses, born of the heat, 
      And the red carnation`s glow.

I must live my life, not yours, my friend, 
      For so it was written down; 
We must follow our given paths to the end, 
      But I trust we shall meet—in town.
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