Even in a palace, life may be led well! So spake the imperial sage, purest of men, Marcus Aurelius. But the stifling den Of common life, where, crowded up pell-mell, Our freedom for a little bread we sell, And drudge under some foolish master's ken Who rates us if we peer outside our pen -- Match'd with a palace, is not this a hell? Even in a palace! On his truth sincere, Who spoke these words, no shadow ever came; And when my ill-school'd spirit is aflame Some nobler, ampler stage of life to win, I'll stop, and say: "There were no succour here! The aids to noble life are all within." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH UPON A CHILD THAT DIED by ROBERT HERRICK THE PASSIONATE MAN'S PILGRIMAGE by WALTER RALEIGH THE MOTHER by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THE LOVE OF DECEIT by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE RECOLLECTIONS OF SOLITUDE; AN ELEGY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES ON A SCOTCH COXCOMB by ROBERT BURNS A SPRING SYMPHONY by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR THE INDIAN BASKET WEAVER by CAREY YATES BUSBY ON THE BIRTH OF JOHN WILLIAM RIZZO HOPPNER by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |