To play through life a perfect part,
Unnoticed and unknown;
To seek no rest in any heart
But only God's alone;
In little things to have no will,
To own no share in great;
To find the labor ready still,
And for the crown to wait; Upon the brow to bear no trace
Of more than common care,
To write no secret on the face
For men to read it there;
The daily cross to clasp and bless
With such familiar zeal
As hides from all that not the less
Its daily weight you feel; In toils that praise will never pay,
To see your life go past;
To meet, in every coming day,
Twin sister of the last;
To hear of high, heroic things,
And yield them reverence due,
Yet feel life's daily offerings
Are far more fit for you; To woo no subtle, soft disguise
To which self-love is prone;
Unnoticed in all other eyes,
Unworthy in your own;
To yield with such a happy art
That no one thinks you care,
And say to your poor, bleeding heart,
"How little you can bear!"
— Author Unknown.