 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
ON STARTING FROM LONDON AT SIX IN THE MORNING.
Now with the growing light the lamps contend,The Heavenly mastering the Earthly: Day,
Like a plain labourer, in hodden gray,
Comes forth to overlook, and to right end
Direct, the World's vast labours; he doth send
All others to their toil, and well he may,
Who is the greatest—on his sublime way,
In sober majesty, he now doth wend,
His godlike eye fixed on his daily task!
O Man, then be thou like him—though so great,
That all the stars, which gild the morning, wait
Upon, and give place to, him: he doth ask
No service of these handmaids, but both late
And early toils, too great for idle state!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |