LORD HOUGHTON
Still it is true, and over true,
That I delight to close This book of life self -wise and new,
And let my thoughts repose On all that humble happiness
The world has since forgone, The daylight of contentedness
That on those faces shone.
With rights, tho' not too closely scann'd,
Enjoy'd as far as known; With will by no reverse unmanned,
With pulse of even tone, They from to-day and from to-night
Expected nothing more Than yesterday and yesternight
Had profTer'd them before.
To them was Life a simple art
Of duties to be done, A game where each man took his part,
A race where all must run ; A battle whose great scheme and scope
They little cared to know, Content as men-at-arms to cope
Each with his fronting foe.
Man now his Virtue's diadem
Puts on and proudly wears: Great thoughts, great feelings came to them
Like instincts, unawares.
�� �
