Classic Poem

I will not enter any cloud
And close its quiet on my mind,
And I must never be too proud
And always be too kind.

I must send my heart to a hard school
And educate it to be brave,
For it is wise to be a fool
And noble to be a slave.

Although enchanting caverns pierce
Beneath the crystal of the seas,
Beyond the stellar universe,
I will not enter these.

It is my duty, my desire,
And my irrevocable fate
To gather kindling for a fire
And scrub a common plate.

The virtuous and beloved dead
Need neither cassia buds nor myrrh,
But living men require bread
However they may err.

And if a cup is set before
A man who will not drink from it,
Why, there are other wines to pour
And fires to be lit.

To feed the beggar and the prince,
To warm the madman and the thief;
I have known this labour ever since
My mind accepted grief.

But I shall be more blessed than damned
When this my servitude is done,
And I have found the dark, and slammed
Its door against the sun.