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 surmise That if I had acted otherwise I might have saved me many sighs. But now the only happiness In looking back that I possess— Whose lack would leave me comfortless— Is to remember I refrained From masteries I might have gained, And for my tolerance was disdained; For see, a tomb. And if it were I had bent and broke, I should not dare To linger in the shadows there.