Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/867

 LORD HOUGHTON

Still it is true, and over true,

That I delight to close This book of life self -wise and new,

And let my thoughts repose On all that humble happiness

The world has since forgone, The daylight of contentedness

That on those faces shone.

With rights, tho' not too closely scann'd,

Enjoy'd as far as known; With will by no reverse unmanned,

With pulse of even tone, They from to-day and from to-night

Expected nothing more Than yesterday and yesternight

Had profTer'd them before.

To them was Life a simple art

Of duties to be done, A game where each man took his part,

A race where all must run ; A battle whose great scheme and scope

They little cared to know, Content as men-at-arms to cope

Each with his fronting foe.

Man now his Virtue's diadem

Puts on and proudly wears: Great thoughts, great feelings came to them

Like instincts, unawares.

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