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.'