Advice.

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.     'Twere a dull old world, methinks, my friend,         If we all went just one way;     Yet our paths will meet no doubt at the end,         Though they lead apart to-day.     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.