I GRIEVED for Buonaparte, with a vain <br />And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood <br />Of that Man's mind--what can it be? what food <br />Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could 'he' gain? <br />'Tis not in battles that from youth we train <br />The Governor who must be wise and good, <br />And temper with the sternness of the brain <br />Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood. <br />Wisdom doth live with children round her knees: <br />Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk <br />Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk <br />Of the mind's business: these are the degrees <br />By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk <br />True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-grieved-for-buonaparte/
