No longer wert thou then mere light, fair soul!
And more than simple duty moved thy feet.
New colours rose in thee, from fear, from shame,
From hope, effused: though not less pure a scroll
May men read on the heart I taught to beat:
That change in thee, if not thyself, I claim.
THE DISCIPLINE OF WISDOM.
Rich labour is the struggle to be wise,
While we make sure the struggle cannot cease.