Methinks the measure of a man is not
To save a state in midst of fierce alarms,
Do noble deeds and mighty feats of arms,
And feel the breath of battle waxing hot.
There have been Cæsars whose more humble lot
Forbade that they should bear the victor’s palms;
Cromwells who never left their peaceful farms;
Napoleons without ambition’s blot....
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I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes —
I wonder if It weighs like Mine —
Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long —
Or did it just begin —
I could not tell the Date of Mine —
It feels so old a pain —
I wonder if it hurts to live —
...