"
Not a bad verse that for one's life aspiration.
This is one of the things which human society has not yet
understood--the value of a noble, inspiriting text. When it does
we shall meet them everywhere engraved on appropriate places, and
our progress through the streets will be brightened and ennobled
by one continual series of beautiful mental impulses and images,
reflected into our souls from the printed thoughts which meet our
eyes. To think that we should walk with empty, listless minds while
all this splendid material is running to waste. I do not mean mere
Scriptural texts, for they do not bear the same meaning to all,
though what human creature can fail to be spurred onwards by "Work
while it is day, for the night cometh when no man can work." But I
mean those beautiful thoughts--who can say that they are uninspired
thoughts?--which may be gathered from a hundred authors to match a
hundred uses. A fine thought in fine language is a most precious
jewel, and should not be hid away, but be exposed for use and
ornament. To take the nearest example, there is a horse-trough across
the road from my house, a plain stone trough, and no man could pass
it with any feelings save vague discontent at its ugliness. But
suppose that on its front slab you print the verse of Coleridge--
"He prayeth best who loveth best
All things, both great and small
For the dear Lord who fashioned him
He knows and loveth all."
I fear I may misquote, for I have not "The Ancient Mariner" at my
elbow, but even as it stands does it not elevate the horse-trough?
We all do this, I suppose, in a small way for ourselves.
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