Thy Thought to thee an Empire be;
break every prison'ing lock and bar:

Do thou the Ought to self aye owed;
here all the duties meet and blend,
In widest sense, withouten care
of what began, for what shall end.

Thus, as thou view the Phantom-forms
which in the misty Past were thine,
To be again the thing thou wast
with honest pride thou may'st decline;

And, glancing down the range of years,
fear not thy future self to see;
Resign'd to life, to death resign'd,
as though the choice were nought to thee.

On Thought itself feed not thy thought;
nor turn from Sun and Light to gaze,
At darkling cloisters paved with tombs,
where rot the bones of bygone days:

"Eat not thy heart," the Sages said;
"nor mourn the Past, the buried Past;"
Do what thou dost, be strong, be brave;
and, like the Star, nor rest nor haste.

Pluck the old woman from thy breast:
Be stout in woe, be stark in weal;