The world is rich in hu­man lore,
And wise is he who ear­ly trains
His mind its rich­es to ex­plore,
And ga­ther in its gold­en grains.

But wiser he that ear­ly seeks
That wis­dom where­of we are told
Its mer­chan­dise more worth be­speaks
Than mer­chan­dise of pur­est gold.

Her price not ru­bies can com­mand;
All else is dross com­pared with her;
The length of days is in her hand
And all the hon­or they con­fer.

O, seek her young! With stead­fast­ness
Cling to her as thy years in­crease;
For hers are ways of plea­sant­ness,
And all her paths are paths of peace.