In men whom men condemn as ill I find so much of goodness still. In men whom men pronounce divine I find so much of sin and blot I hesitate to draw a… - Joaquin Miller

Where storm-born shadows hide and hunt I knew thee, in thy glorious youth, And loved thy vast face, white as truth; I stood where thunderbolts were wont To smite thy Titan-fashioned front, And heard dark mountains rock and roll; I saw the lightning's gleaming rod Reach forth and write on heaven's scroll The awful autograph of God!

Each gives to each, and like the star Gets back its gift in tenfold pay. To get and give and give amain The rivers run and oceans roll. O generous and high-born rain When reigning as a splendid whole! That man who lives for self alone Lives for the meanest mortal known.

Behold this sea, that sapphire sky! Where nature does so much for man, Shall man not set his standard high, And hold some higher, holier plan? Some loftier plan than ever planned By outworn book of outworn land? Where God has done so much for man, Shall man for God do aught at all? The soul that feeds on books alone — I count that soul exceeding small That lives alone by book and creed,— A soul that has not learned to read.