I hold it the duty of one who is gifted
     And specially dowered in all men’s sight,
To know no rest till his life is lifted
     Fully up to his great gifts’ height.
He must mould the man into rare completeness,
     For gems are set only in gold refined.
He must fashion his thoughts into perfect sweetness.
     And cast out folly and pride from his mind.
For he who drinks from a god’s gold fountain
     Of art or music or rhythmic song
Must sift from his soul the chaff of malice,
     And weed from his heart the roots of wrong.
Great gifts should be worn, like a crown befitting,
     And not like gems in a beggar’s hands!
And the toil must be constant and unremitting
     Which lifts up the king to the crown’s demands.
Other works by Ella Wheeler Wilcox...