Flower Pieces and other poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

A Hermit sat in a lonely tower,
Heaping knowledge hour by hour;
Searching through all lives, all forces,
All beginnings, and all courses;
Tracing on, from old to new,
How rounded worlds from chaos grew;
Sifting all matter's form and plan,
Within the utmost reach of man;
All dependence, all relation,
Through the system of Creation.
Of man's mind too, and its modes,
Disentangling all the nodes,
To that limit where extremes
Interpenetrate like dreams,
Where the eager wings in pain
Struggle madly to sustain
The soul in void,—where rises ever
A wall of blank to man's endeavour.

One day came a Shepherd Lad
To where the Hermit plied his task:
The Hermit raised his head to ask
What knowledge was the best he had.
‘A crowded, various earth is spread
Around my footsteps,’ said the Youth;
‘A great Heaven is above my head.
To love and hope in simple truth,
To reverence God, whate'er befall,—
This is best, this is all.’

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Then did this Hermit take the Boy,
And teach him all that he could teach;
And, after many years, he said,
‘All knowledge in the human reach
Is thine, to use and to enjoy.
What count'st thou best?’ He answer made,
‘Increase of knowledge is good and sweet,
That the soul may shun deceit;
And the best is this in sooth—
To love and hope in simple truth,
To reverence God, whate'er befall.
This is best, this is all.’