Classic Poem

Not fair,—as men count beauty when they sing
Of her for whose fair face a nation died.
Only with eyes made clear by suffering
Thy purer loveliness may be descried;
From such thy patient features can not hide
The nobleness that gracious actions bring;
And hearts less heavy for thy ministering
Deem thee more fair than all the world beside.

Not wise,—as wisdom passeth in the schools,
Nor learned in the gay world's idle lore;
Unsatisfied to range life's shallow pools,
Nor scorning all the shelter of the shore,
No shifting bar thine easy course befools,
Nor tempts the unknown ocean to explore;
Willing to hold straight on by simple rules,
Knowing thy journey's end, and ask no more.

Not happy,—as the world knows happiness;
Nor wealth nor station smoothes thine earthly lot.
Nothing of breath-born fame dost thou possess,
And in love's charmed realm thou dwellest not.
Bare and ungarlanded, a narrow plot
The Harvest Lord hath given thee to dress;
Yet there thou hast it in thy power to bless,
And since His task is done, joy is forgot.