The prosperous and beautiful <br />To me seem not to wear <br />The yoke of conscience masterful, <br />Which galls me everywhere. <br /> <br />I cannot shake off the god; <br />On my neck he makes his seat; <br />I look at my face in the glass, <br />My eyes his eye-balls meet. <br /> <br />Enchanters! enchantresses! <br />Your gold makes you seem wise: <br />The morning mist within your grounds <br />More proudly rolls, more softly lies. <br /> <br />Yet spake yon purple mountain, <br />Yet said yon ancient wood, <br />That night or day, that love or crime <br />Lead all souls to the Good.<br /><br />Ralph Waldo Emerson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-park/
