BOOK OF GLOOM.
IT is a fault oneself to praise,
And yet 'tis done by each whose deeds are kind;
And if there's no deceit in what he says,
The good we still as good shall find.
Let, then, ye fools, that wise man taste
Of joy, who fancies that he s wise,
That he, a fool like you, may waste
Th' insipid thanks the world supplies.
1816. ——- VI. HIKMET NAME.
BOOK OF PROVERBS.
CALL on the present day and night for nought,
Save what by yesterday was brought.
——-
THE sea is flowing ever,
The land retains it never.
——-
BE stirring, man, while yet the day is clear;
The night when none can work fast Draweth near.
——-
WHEN the heavy-laden sigh,
Deeming help and hope gone by,
Oft, with healing power is heard,
Comfort-fraught, a kindly word.
——-
How vast is mine inheritance, how glorious and sublime!
For time mine own possession is, the land I till is time!
——-
UNWARY saith,—ne'er lived a man more true;
The deepest heart, the highest head he knew,—
"In ev'ry place and time thou'lt find availing
Uprightness, judgment, kindliness unfailing."
——-
THOUGH the bards whom the Orient sun bath bless'd
Are greater than we who dwell in the west,
Yet in hatred of those whom our equals we find.
In this we're not in the least behind.
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