 | The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton |  |
114
THE WORTH OF HOURS.
Believe not that your inner eye
Can ever in just measure try
The worth of Hours as they go by:
Can ever in just measure try
The worth of Hours as they go by:
For every man's weak self, alas!
Makes him to see them, while they pass,
As through a dim or tinted glass:
Makes him to see them, while they pass,
As through a dim or tinted glass:
But if in earnest care you would
Mete out to each its part of good,
Trust rather to your after-mood.
Mete out to each its part of good,
Trust rather to your after-mood.
Those surely are not fairly spent,
That leave your spirit bowed and bent
In sad unrest and ill-content:
That leave your spirit bowed and bent
In sad unrest and ill-content:
And more,—though free from seeming harm,
You rest from toil of mind or arm,
Or slow retire from Pleasure's charm,—
You rest from toil of mind or arm,
Or slow retire from Pleasure's charm,—
If then a painful sense comes on
Of something wholly lost and gone,
Vainly enjoyed, or vainly done,—
Of something wholly lost and gone,
Vainly enjoyed, or vainly done,—
115
Of something from your being's chain
Broke off, nor to be linked again
By all mere Memory can retain,—
Broke off, nor to be linked again
By all mere Memory can retain,—
Upon your heart this truth may rise,—
Nothing that altogether dies
Suffices man's just destinies:
Nothing that altogether dies
Suffices man's just destinies:
So should we live, that every Hour
May die as dies the natural flower,—
A self-reviving thing of power;
May die as dies the natural flower,—
A self-reviving thing of power;
That every Thought and every Deed
May hold within itself the seed
Of future good and future meed;
May hold within itself the seed
Of future good and future meed;
Esteeming Sorrow, whose employ
Is to develope not destroy,
Far better than a barren Joy.
Is to develope not destroy,
Far better than a barren Joy.
1835.
| The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton | |