The rather, let false pride affect to trample on the treasure
Which evermore in secret strength unconquered Nature prizeth;
Rather, shall ye stifle now the rising bliss of triumph,
Lest after, in the world's Neglect, he must acknowledge bitterness.
For lo, that world is wide, a huge and crowded continent,
Its brazen sun is mammon, and its iron soil is care:
A world full of men, where each man clingeth to his idol;
A world full of men, where each man cherisheth his sorrow;
A world full of men, multitude shoaling upon multitude;
A surging sea, where every wave is burdened with an argosy of self;