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79
ADVICE.
Boy, thy nature is good, though somewhat too ardent thy temper;Why do I see thee so oft, lonely, discouraged, and sad?
More and more every day thou keepest aloof from thy fellows,
Thinking of nought on this earth save thy ambitious designs.
More and more every day I see thee neglecting thy pastimes,
Even those that were once dearest unto thy heart;
Working from morning till night, nor stopping to look on creation.
Jaded in body and mind, knowing of neither the sweets.
Life is a garden immense, one half of whose fruits are a semblance:
Art thou not plucking the false, leaving untasted the true?
He who would live to succeed must live as if life were eternal,
Knowing both pleasure and work, giving its measure to each.
Fame is not taken by storm, but surrenders with time unto merit;
He who can wait for his day, holdeth the game in his hands.
Abler thou art than the crowd; but dangers unknown to the vulgar—
Dangers for body and mind—lie in Ability's way.
Happy and safe Mediocrity, knowing no path but the beaten,
Seeking no heights that allure—skirting no hidden abyss—
Playing a little with Vice, while holding the fingers of Virtue—
Guided by instinct, not thought: almost I envy thy lot!
Fain would I spare thee, O Boy, the bitter and sickening lesson,
Which, with a temper like thine, Fate but too readily gives;
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Learning life's lesson must sit, earning the prize or the rod.
Fain would I warn thee in time; for maybe a similar error,
Cost me, while youth slipt away, much of the joy of life.
Yes, the future too much, the present too little, I cared for,
Thinking too much of success, missing life's real delights;
Deeming the work of the mind alone to be noble and worthy;
Searching all wisdom in books; knowing nor leisure nor rest.
Yet there were times even then, when a better philosophy entered
Transiently into my heart, yielding the healthiest fruit.
Outwards then, and not inwards, the eyes of the mind were directed;
Filled was the present with good,—nought in the future I sought;
Looking on Nature with love, on Nature the good and the fleeting,
While there was youth in the heart giving the power to feel.
Yes, there are moments in life, when Destiny's coursers that bear us
Whither we know not, away, slacken their terrible pace;
When on the road of existence, we look not ahead, but around us,
Holding the reins with loose hand, feeling secure for a while,
When, as we look on the world through which we too fast have been hurried,
Nothing but beauty we see—beauty serene and divine.
Few are the moments of respite, when thus on the weary journey,
Man can enjoy the scene; soon do they come to an end:
Scarce have the coursers relaxed, when, lashed by invisible spirits,
Wildly their race they resume, bearing us helpless away.
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