Classic Poem

These vulgar ways that round me be,
These faces shabby, sordid, mean,
Shall they be daily, hourly seen
And not affect the eyes that see?

Long months to play the censor's part,
Lie down at night and rise at morn
In mere defiance and stern scorn
Is scarcely well for human heart.

Accept, O soul, not in disdain,
But patience, faith and simple sooth;
Poise all things in the scales of truth,
And one day they shall pay thy pain.