OUT of the earthly years we live How small a profit springs; I cannot think but life should give Higher and better things. The very ground whereon we tread Is clothed to please our sight; I cannot think that we have read Our dusty lesson right. So little comfort we receive, Except through what we see, I cannot think we half believe Our immortality. We disallow and trample so The rights of poor weak men, I cannot think we feel and know They are our brethren. So rarely our affections move Without a selfish guard, I cannot think we know that love Is all of love's reward. To him who smites, the cheek is turned With such a slow consent, I cannot think that we have learned The holy Testament. Blind, ignorant, we grope along A path misunderstood, Mingling with folly and with wrong Some providential good. Striving with vain and idle strife In outward shows to live, We famish, knowing not that life Has better things to give. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRYSTAL CABINET by WILLIAM BLAKE JIM BLUDSO [OF THE PRAIRIE BELLE] by JOHN MILTON HAY TO STATECRAFT EMBALMED by MARIANNE MOORE SONNET: 36 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE BALLAD OF BOUILLABAISSE by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY THE SOBBING OF THE BELLS (MIDNIGHT, SEPT. 19-20, 1881) by WALT WHITMAN ON MRS PRIESTLEY'S LEAVING WARRINGTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |