I think of all the toughs through history
And thank heaven they lived, continually.
Their pride exalted some, some overthrew,
But was not vanity at last: they knew
That though the mind has also got a place
It’s not in marvelling at its mirrored face
And evident sensibility. It’s better
To go and see your friend than write a letter;
To be a soldier than to be a cripple;
To take an early weaning from the nipple
Than think your mother is the only girl;
To be insensitive, to steel the will,
Than sit irresolute all day at stool
Inside the heart; and to despise the fool,
Who may not help himself and may not choose,
Than give him pity which he cannot use.
I think of those exclusive by their action,
For whom mere thought could be no satisfaction—
The athletes lying under tons of dirt
Or standing gelded so they cannot hurt
The pale curators and the families
By calling up disturbing images.
I think of all the toughs through history
And thank heaven they lived, continually.
Lines for a Book
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