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TEMPERANCE by LEWIS MORRIS (1833-1907)

First Line: WHOSO CAN RULE HIS SOUL
Last Line: TRUE LIBERTY!

WHOSO can rule his soul
In prudence still;
Who can his heart control,
His thought, his will;

Whom, temperate in all,
Labour and play,
No low desires enthral
Nor lead astray;

Seeking the golden mean,
To Duty vowed, --
Ay, though black depths between
Roar dark and loud;

He shall new pleasures find,
More fruitful far
Than for the undisciplined
And sensual are;

A kingdom absolute,
A wider sway
Than his whom myriads mute
And blind obey.

For in his soul one voice
Alone is heard,
Which bids his being rejoice,
One perfect word,

Stronger than heated youth,
Mightier than wrong --
The Godlike voice of Truth,
A constant song.

Silence all discords loud
Within the breast!
Fly from the troubled crowd
To peace and rest!

And let the enfranchised soul,
From self set free,
Find in Right's dread control
True Liberty!



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