Tolerance
“It is a foolish thing,” said I,“To bear with such, and pass it by;Yet so I do, I know not why!”
And at each clash I would surmiseThat if I had acted otherwiseI might have saved me many sighs.
But now the only happinessIn looking back that I possess—Whose lack would leave me comfortless—
Is to remember I refrainedFrom masteries I might have gained,And for my tolerance was disdained;
For see, a tomb. And if it wereI had bent and broke, I should not dareTo linger in the shadows there.
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