 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
TO THE SCORNERS.
Sneer thou who hast a right to sneer at all,Though at the meanest of thy fellow-men—
But I forget—forgive thee—and so then
We're quit: or, rather, thy dull sneer doth fall
Back on thyself, and its unchristian gall
Thy heart, thy life's springhead, embitters; when
Thou scorn'st a fellow-creature, thou art ten
Times worse: his fault compared with thine is small.
For he, who sins from want of Love alone,
Breaks all commandments, since they all are based
On Love: as almost all faults are effaced
Through it, for him who Faith with Love doth crown—
The circle, drawn from God, where lie embraced
All duties, from the cottage to the throne!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |