That glowing generous heart, having burnt out all its dross, Is as a golden censer, ready for the aloes and cassia: While thou, hard-visaged man, unlovely in thy strictness, Who turned from him thy sympathies with self-complacent pride, How art thou shamed by him! his heart is a spring of love, While the dry well of thine affections is choked with secret mammon. [Illustration] Sometimes at a glance thou judgest well; years could add little to thy knowledge: When charity gloweth on the cheek, or malice is lowering in the eye, When honesty's open brow, or the weasel-face of cunning is before thee, Or the loose lip of wantonness, or clear bright forehead of reflection. But often, by shrewd scrutiny, thou judgest to the good man's harm: For it may be his hour of trial, or he slumbereth at his post, Or he hath slain his foe, but not yet levelled the stronghold, Or barely recovered of the wounds, that fleshed him in his fray with passion. Also, of the worst, through prejudice, thou loosely shalt think well: For none is altogether evil, and thou mayst catch him at his prayers: There may be one small prize, though all beside be blanks; A silver thread of goodness in the black serge-cloth of crime. There is to whom all things are easy; his mind, as a master-key, Can open, with intuitive address, the treasuries of art and science: There is to whom all things are hard; but industry giveth him a crow-bar, To force, with groaning labour, the stubborn lock of learning: And often, when thou lookest on an eye, dim in native dulness, Little shalt thou wot of the wealth diligence hath gathered to its gaze; Often, the brow that should be bright with the dormant fire of genius, Within its ample halls, hath ignorance the tenant. Yet are not the sons of men cast as in moulds by the lot? The like in frame and feature have much alike in spirit; Such a shape hath such a soul, so that a deep discerner From his make will read the man, and err not far in judgment: Yea, and it holdeth in the converse, that growing similarity of mind Findeth or maketh for itself an apposite dwelling in the body: Accident may modify, circumstance may bevil, externals seem to change it, But still the primitive crystal is latent in its many variations: For the map of the face, and the picture of the eye, are traced by the pen of passion; And the mind fashioneth a tabernacle suitable for itself. A mean spirit boweth down the back, and the bowing fostereth meanness; A resolute purpose knitteth the knees, and the firm tread nourisheth decision; Love looketh softly from the eye, and kindleth love by looking; Hate furroweth the brow, and a man may frown till he hateth: For mind and body, spirit and matter, have reciprocities of power, And each keepeth up the strife; a man's works make or mar him.