 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XXIII. INDUSTRY.
Virtue defamed for sordid, rough, and coarse,Unworthy of the glimpses of the moon,
Praise of the clown alone whose heavy shoon
Kneads the moist clay, nor spares the pure stream's source,
In thee how strong is grace! how fair is force!
How generous art thou, and to man how boon!
Not thine the boastful plain with carnage strewn,
Nor chambers, wassail-shamed, where late Remorse
Sits, the last guest! From ocean on to ocean,
From citied shore to hills far-forested,
The increase of earth is thine, in rest or motion;
The crown is thine on every Sage's head;
The ship, the scythe, the rainbow among flowers:
Thine too the song of girls exulting 'mid their bowers.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |