To do thy will, uphold thy hand,
To speed thy errands with eager feet,
To quit them in their lot like men,
With tendance and obedience meet.”
Then once more Adam said, “And then?”
“Then, as mild age draws slowly on,
And faintly burns thy westering sun,
When on the pulse no longer hot
Falls quietude which youth knows not,
When patience rules the tempered will,