The gifts o' the gods; not all men have them, ay,
And some indeed that have them know it not;
And some that have them not, deem that they have,
And there's the mischief: it is this that makes
So many failures, tempts men to betray
Their proper selves, and on a false surmise
Of what they are or will be, lures them to
Their own undoing; as pirate lights decoy
Unwary mariners to ruin on
A monstrous shore.
Natural Gifts.
Robert Crawford
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Poem topics: shore, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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