A PHILOSOPHY
Only in pages of men’s books I find
Swart villain and fair knight
Closing in fight.
Not piebald is mankind.
The soul is hued to such swift varying
As flying hornet’s sunshine-smitten wing.
Therefore, dear brother men (where’er ye be),
Who strive for right
With such short sight,
’Tis wise for little folk like you and me
Neither too much to praise nor yet to blame,
Since in our different ways we’re all the same.