No, no Elysiums⁠—for that personal dream I dreamt of for myself and in my youth Has been abolished by the falling sledge Of chance and an ambition so fulfilled That the fulfillment killed its personal part.

My old ambition was an iron ring Loose-hooped around the live trunk of a tree. If the tree grows till bark and iron touch And then stops growing, ring and tree are matched And the fulfillment fits. But, if by some Unlikely chance, the growing still keeps on, The tree must burst the binding-ring or die.

I have not once controlled the circumstances. They have controlled me. But with that control They made me grow or die. And I have grown. The iron ring is burst. Three elements, Earth, water and fire. I have passed through them all, Still to find no Elysium for my hands, Still to find no Elysium but growth, And the slow will to grow to match my task.