Worldly Place

Even in a palace, life may be led well!

    So spake the imperial sage, purest of men,

    Marcus Aurelius. But the stifling den

    Of common life, where, crowded up pell-mell,

    Our freedom for a little bread we sell,

    And drudge under some foolish master's ken

    Who rates us if we peer outside our pen—

    Match'd with a palace, is not this a hell?

    Even in a palace! On his truth sincere,

   Who spoke these words, no shadow ever came;

   And when my ill-school'd spirit is aflame

   Some nobler, ampler stage of life to win,

   I'll stop, and say: "There were no succour here!

   The aids to noble life are all within."