Humility
Great poets fire the world with fagots big
That make a crackling racket,
But I’m content with but a whispering twig
To warm some single jacket.
One President
“What are those, father?” “Statesmen, my child—
Lacrymose, unparliamentary, wild.”
“What are they that way for, father?” “Last fall,
‘Our candidate’s better,’ they said, ‘than all!’”
“What did they say he was, father?” “A man
Built on a straight incorruptible plan—
Believing that none for an office would do
Unless he were honest and capable too.”
“Poor gentlemen—so disappointed!” “Yes, lad,
That is the feeling that’s driving them mad;
They’re weeping and wailing and gnashing because
They find that he’s all that they said that he was.”