He liveth in the realm of thought, beyond the world of things;
These are but transient Matter, and himself enduring Spirit:
And worldliness will laugh to scorn that sublimated wisdom.
His eyes may open on a prison-cell, but the bare walls glow with imagery;
His ears may be filled with execration, but are listening to the music of sweet thoughts;
He may dwell in a hovel with a hero's heart, and canopy his penury with peace,
For mind is a kingdom to the man, who gathereth his pleasure from Ideas.
