All as a sea

All as a sea, the world no other is,
Ourselves are Ships still tossed to and fro.
And lo, each man, his love to that or this,
Is like a Storm that drives the ship to go:
That thus our life in doubt of shipwreck stands:
Our wills, the Rocks; our want of skill, the Sands.

Our passions be the Pirates still that spoil,
And overboard cast out our reason's Freight;
The Mariners that day and night do toil,
Be our conceits that do on pleasure wait:
Pleasure, Master, doth tyrannize the ship,
And giveth virtue secretly the nip.

The Compass is a mind to compass all,
Both pleasure, profit, place and fame for nought:
The Winds that blow, men overweening call,
The Merchandise is wit full dearly bought,
Trial and Anchor cast upon experience,
For labour, life, and all ado the Recompense.

William Byrd