I KNOW not that the men of old Were better than men now, Of heart more kind, of hand more bold, Of more ingenuous brow: I heed not those who pine for force A ghost of Time to raise, As if they thus could check the course Of these appointed days. 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 foregone, -- The daylight of contentedness That on those faces shone! With rights, tho' not too closely scanned, Enjoyed, 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 proffered 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 @3now@1 his Virtue's diadem Puts on and proudly wears, Great thoughts, great feelings, came to them, Like instincts, unawares: Blending their souls' sublimest needs With tasks of every day, They went about their gravest deeds, As noble boys at play. -- And what if Nature's fearful wound They did not probe and bare, For that their spirits never swooned To watch the misery there, -- For that their love but flowed more fast, Their charities more free, Not conscious what mere drops they cast Into the evil sea. A man's best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet, It is the distant and the dim That we are sick to greet: For flowers that grow our hands beneath We struggle and aspire, -- Our hearts must die, except they breathe The air of fresh Desire. Yet, Brothers, who up Reason's hill Advance with hopeful cheer, -- O! loiter not, those heights are chill, As chill as they are clear; And still restrain your haughty gaze, The loftier that ye go, Remembering distance leaves a haze On all that lies below. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TROPICS IN NEW YORK by CLAUDE MCKAY TO MY EXCELLENT LUCASIA, ON OUR FRIENDSHIP. 17TH JULY 1651 by KATHERINE PHILIPS WALKEN HWOME AT NIGHT by WILLIAM BARNES THE KING OF YVETOT by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE HEALERS by LAURENCE BINYON THE FARMER'S WIFE by BERTON BRALEY |