Wisdom Doth Live with Children Round Her Knees

 I Grieved for Buonaparte
by William Wordsworth

I Grieved for Buonaparte, with a vain
 And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood
 Of that Man's mind -- what can it be? what food
 Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could he gain?-- 
 'Tis not in battles that from youth we train
 The Governor who must be wise and good,
 And temper with the sternness of the brain
 Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
 Wisdom doth live with children round her knees:
 Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk
 Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk
 Of the mind's business: these are the degrees
 By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk
 True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.