Seek not of man with light applause to pay
The priceless guerdon of a well-spent day,—
Wait not for him to judge the generous deed,
But spread the scroll, and bid thy Conscience read.
Rest on thy couch,—recline within thy cell,
And ask that silent one, if all be well?—
Then if she smile, receive the rapturous meed,—
Nor boast the motive,—nor proclaim the deed,
Wait till the day of doom, the hour of fate,
Even as the expecting Jews for their Messiah wait.