His preaching wasn’t sanctioned by his practice.
’Tis, doubtless, well to be sometimes awake,—
Awake to duty and awake to truth;
But when, alas! a nice review we take
Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth,
The hours that leave the slightest cause to weep
Are those we passed in childhood, or—asleep!
’Tis beautiful to leave the world a while
For the soft visions of the gentle night,
And free, at last, from mortal care or guile,