Poems by William W. Story | ||
[XXIII. Seek not to pour the world into thy little mould]
Seek not to pour the world into thy little mould,
Each as its nature is, its being must unfold.
Each as its nature is, its being must unfold.
Enjoy the good, nor seek too much to criticize,
Within the slag of vice the gold of virtue lies.
Within the slag of vice the gold of virtue lies.
Vice is not wholly vice, but virtue in the growth,
And falsehood but the germ of undeveloped truth.
And falsehood but the germ of undeveloped truth.
Thy virtue is thine own; in others it may be
The meanest vice that man can have—Hypocrisy.
The meanest vice that man can have—Hypocrisy.
Thou art but as a string in life's vast sounding-board,
And other strings as sweet will not with thine accord.
And other strings as sweet will not with thine accord.
Poems by William W. Story | ||