Classic Poem

Hard is it for a man to please all men:
I therefore speak in doubt,
And as one may that looketh to be chid.
But who can hold his peace in these days? — when
Guilt cunningly slips out,
And Innocence atones for what he did;
When worth is crushed, even if it be not hid;
When on crushed worth, guile sets his foot to rise;
And when the things wise men have counted wise
Make fools to smile and stare and lift the lid.

Let none who have not wisdom govern you:
For he that was a fool
At first shall scarce grow wise under the sun.
And as it is, my whole heart bleeds anew
To think how hard a school
Young hope grows old at, as these seasons run.
Behold, sirs, we have reached this thing for one: —
The lord before his servant bends the knee,
And service puts on lordship suddenly.
Ye speak o' the end? Ye have not yet begun.

I would not have ye without counsel ta'en
Follow my words; nor meant,
If one should talk and act not, to praise him
But who, being much opposed, speaks not again,
Confesseth himself shent
And put to silence, — by some loud-mouthed mime,
Perchance, for whom I speak not in this rhyme.
Strive what ye can; and if ye cannot all,
Yet should not your hearts fall:
The fruit commends the flower in God's good time.

(For without fruit, the flower delights not God:)
Wherefore let him whom Hope
Puts off, remember time is not gone by.
Let him say calmly: " Thus far on this road
A foolish trust buoyed up
My soul, and made it like the summer fly
Burned in the flame it seeks: even so was I:
But now I'll aid myself: for still this trust,
I find, falleth to dust:
The fish gapes for the bait-hook, and doth die."

And yet myself, who bid ye do this thing, —
Am I not also spurn'd
By the proud feet of Hope continually;
Till that which gave me such good comforting
Is altogether turn'd
Unto a fire whose heat consumeth me?
I am so girt with grief that my thoughts be
Tired of themselves, and from my soul I loathe
Silence and converse both;
And my own face is what I hate to see.

Because no act is meet now nor unmeet.
He that does evil, men applaud his name,
And the well-doer must put up with shame:
Yea, and the worst man sits in the best seat.