VI
Your eyes are caught at first by empty shows—
Bright colours, smiling faces, forms of grace.
To chase gold butterflies by green hedgerows,
To play regardless both of time and space
In unrestricted freedom, and to race
Propriety and prudence out of breath,
Seem pleasant and surprisingly in place
In this fair world where, as the preacher saith,
What profits he that works in that he laboureth?
VII
But look around you, and you’ll soon perceive
Your judgment is at fault, and, once for all,
’Tis best surrender freedom and not grieve,
But bend your neck demurely to the thrall—
Remembering the weak must take the wall.
And get by rote, if not by heart, the themes
Which age and ancient custom learning call,
And leave enthusiastic youthful dreams,
To labour for what is and not for that which seems.
VIII
Such labour profits. Since it pleased the Lord
To shut us out of Paradise, the sweat
Of each man’s brow alone secures reward
(His or another’s); and we need not fret.
The bargain’s just, for if we do not get
Interest, we get profits, which are more.
Life’s interest is Nature’s secret, set
In untrod plains, and if all pleasant lore
Is there, Knowledge and Life,—an Eden-land whereo’er.
IX
The sun of freedom shines—still, here is gold,
Which, after all, surpasses any sun:
For without light were nothing to behold,
But without this is nothing to be done.
Therefore seek first for gold, and therefore shun
Unthrifty habits or excessive vice:
Honesty’s best policy in the long run,
Dishonour ruins credit in a trice,
And virtue, being its own reward, thus pays you twice.
X
Yet all with moderation. We, who came
Into the world and learned our lesson flush
Ere you were thought of, have the prior claim
In law as well as profits. Do not push!
As if gold were the very flaming bush.
Order! If there’s not room, why, some must wait;
First comers first: ’tis just. And I’ll not blush
To say I’ve tarried yearlong for a great
Opening which now the due rotation brings—though late.