Who are not subject to a moment's chance,
Made and unmade by shifting circumstance.
This is the wisdom of the poor and weak:
The smitten cheek shall warn its brother cheek,
And each man to his nook of comfort run,
His little portion of the morning sun,
His little corner of the noonday shade,
His wrongs forgotten as his debts unpaid.
Let not the evil and the good we do
Be ghosts to haunt us, phantoms to pursue.