Nobility

True worth is in being, not seeming,

In doing each day, as it goes by,

Some little good—not in the dreaming

Of great things to do by and by.

For whatever men say in blindness

And spite of the fancies of youth,

There's nothing so kingly as kindness

And nothing so royal as truth.

We get back our mete, as we measure,

We cannot do wrong and feel right,

Nor can we give pain, and gain pleasure,

For justice avenges each slight.

The air for the wing of the sparrow,

The bush for the robin and wren,

But always the path that is narrow

And straight for the children of men.

'Tis not in the pages of story

The heart of its ills to beguile

Though he who makes courtship to glory

Gives all that he hath for her smile.

For when from her heights he hath won her

Alas! it is only to prove,

That nothing's so sacred as honor,

And nothing so loyal as love.

We cannot make bargains for blisses,

Nor catch them like fishes in nets,

And sometimes the thing our life misses,

Helps more than the thing which it gets.

For good lieth not in pursuing

Nor gaining of great nor of small,

But just in the doing and doing

As we would be done by all.

Through envy, through malice, through hating

Against the world early and late,

No jot of our courage abating,—

Our part is to work and to wait.

And slight is the sting of his trouble

Whose winnings are less than his worth,

For he who is honest is noble

Whatever his fortune or birth.