On Thought itself feed not thy thought; nor turn from Sun and Light to gaze, At darkling cloisters paved with tombs, where rot the bones of bygone days:

“Eat not thy heart,” the Sages said; “nor mourn the Past, the buried Past;” Do what thou dost, be strong, be brave; and, like the Star, nor rest nor haste.

Pluck the old woman from thy breast: Be stout in woe, be stark in weal; Do good for Good is good to do: Spurn bribe of Heav’en and threat of Hell.

To seek the True, to glad the heart, such is of life the HIGHER LAW, Whose differ’ence is the Man’s degree, the Man of gold, the Man of straw.

See not that something in Mankind that rouses hate or scorn or strife, Better the worm of Izrâil* than Death that walks in form of life.