See there l for this man, too, life's toil is over, ; His words are all said out, his deeds are done : For this man, too, there comes a rest, however Unquiet passed his time beneath the sun.
YOU said what seemed you best : your life's poor fountain Just bubbled, whilst his soared or shuddered down ; You chid him as a tired boy chides a mountain ; You frowned on him, and thought God too must frown.
His worst thought was so great, your best so little, Your best and worst not yours, his all his own ; You ran the world's safe way ; he dared to thwart it ; You stood with thousands by you, he alone.
Wherefore, when God shall judge the world, I take it He will not mete this man by rule and line, Who felt no common thirst, nor feared to slake it From that which flowed within him, the Divine.
Or think you God loves our tame levelled acres More than the proud head of some heaven-kissed hill ; Man's straight-dug ditch more than his own free river, That wanders, He regarding, where it will? Enough—high words abate no jot or tittle
Of what, while man still lasts, shall still be true :
Heaven's great ones must be slandered by Earth's little, And God makes no ado.