 | Life and Literary Remains of L. E. L. |  |
CUSTOM AND INDIFFERENCE.
I cannot choose, but marvel at the wayIn which we pass our lives from day to day;
Learning strange lessons in the human heart;
And yet, like shadows, letting them depart.
Is misery so familiar, that we bring
Ourselves to view it as “a usual thing?”
We do too little feel each other's pain;
We do too much relax the social chain
That binds us to each other; slight the care
There is for grief, in which we have no share.
| Life and Literary Remains of L. E. L. | |