Victorian Poetry/DUTY

I REACH a duty, yet I do it not,
And therefore see no higher: but, if done,
My view is brightened, and another spot
Seen on my moral sun.

For, be the duty high as angel’s flight,
Fulfil it, and another will arise,
E’en from its ashes. Duty is infinite –
Receding as the skies.

And thus it is the purist most deplore
There want of purity. As fold by fold,
In duties done, falls from their eyes, the more
Of duty they behold.

Were it not wisdom, then, to close the eyes
On duties, crowing only to appal?
No! Duty is the ladder of the skies,
And climbing not, we fall.

R. L.

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