How is it, o'er the strongest mind,
That trifles hold such sway?
A word — nay e'en a look unkind
May darken all life's day.
Oh, in this world of daily care,
The thousands that have erred
Can any hardship better bear
Than they can bear a word!

The man who with heroic heart
Can stern misfortune meet,
Unflinchingly perform his part,
And struggle 'gainst defeat
With faith unaltered, — yet can lose
His temper, e'en for ought
Which falls not as his will would choose,
Or proves not what he sought!

Alas, the human mould's at fault,
And still by turns it claims
A nobleness that can exalt,
A littleness that shames!
Of strength and weakness still combined,
Compounded of the mean and grand;
And trifles thus will shake the mind
That would a tempest stand.

Give me that soul-superior power,
That conquest over fate,
Which sways the weakness of the hour,
Rules little things as great;
That lulls the human waves of strife
With words and feelings kind,
And makes the trials of our life
The triumphs of our mind!