IS it so small a thing <br /> To have enjoy'd the sun, <br /> To have lived light in the spring, <br /> To have loved, to have thought, to have done; <br /> To have advanced true friends, and beat down baffling foes; <br /> <br /> That we must feign a bliss <br /> Of doubtful future date, <br /> And while we dream on this <br /> Lose all our present state, <br /> And relegate to worlds yet distant our repose? <br /> <br /> Not much, I know, you prize <br /> What pleasures may be had, <br /> Who look on life with eyes <br /> Estranged, like mine, and sad: <br /> And yet the village churl feels the truth more than you; <br /> <br /> Who 's loth to leave this life <br /> Which to him little yields: <br /> His hard-task'd sunburnt wife, <br /> His often-labour'd fields; <br /> The boors with whom he talk'd, the country spots he knew. <br /> <br /> But thou, because thou hear'st <br /> Men scoff at Heaven and Fate; <br /> Because the gods thou fear'st <br /> Fail to make blest thy state, <br /> Tremblest, and wilt not dare to trust the joys there are. <br /> <br /> I say, Fear not! life still <br /> Leaves human effort scope. <br /> But, since life teems with ill, <br /> Nurse no extravagant hope. <br /> Because thou must not dream, thou need'st not then despair.<br /><br />Matthew Arnold<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-the-hymn-of-empedocles/
