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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348514" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Weakling</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I AM a weakling. God, who made <br> The still, strong man, made also me. <br> The God who could the tiger plan, <br>In his lithe splendour unafraid— <br> A thing of flame and poetry— <br> That Puissance made of me—a Man! <br> <br>The One who reared His vast design— <br> Star, atom, system, germ, and soul— <br> Could fashion forth this tremulous <br>And paltry little heart of mine! <br> The God who could conceive the Whole, <br> Himself blasphemed in building thus. <br> <br>When I dare look the glass within, <br> The ‘Mene Tekel’ mark I see. <br> God made this slinking, stunted thing, <br>This narrowed face, this futile chin, <br> Prisoned a soul deliberately <br> ’Neath these blunt nerves unanswering? <br> <br>I see my fellows strong and proud, <br> Lustful and splendid with desires, <br> Secure and strenuous within, <br>God opulently them endowed, <br> And lit in them immortal fires; <br> And left me scarcely strength to sin. <br> <br>I watch them triumph by, afar, <br> Crashing through life with crude disdain. <br> Theirs is a universe so wide, <br>So keen and rich the colours are <br> That reach each fine responsive brain. <br> They are the bridegrooms, Life the bride! <br> <br>They carry in their veins their fate; <br> Foredoomed are they to victory. <br> Their broad brows are a diadem <br>Of mastery; they but await <br> Their long determined destiny, <br> For at their birth Life laurelled them. <br> <br>They have their chance to win, to fall— <br> The fighting chance, the deathless hope; <br> Their fate they venture to assail; <br>They chafe for ever at their thrall; <br> They dare with their despair to cope, <br> Superbly strive, superbly fail. <br> <br>But I starve with a stunted brain: <br> My vision is so mean and scant <br> That every hue it blurs and dulls. <br>God branded me—this brow of Cain!— <br> Put in me this heart hesitant, <br> And lamed me with a limping pulse. <br> <br>I watch them striding on; they flout <br> Death even; then my path I see: <br> The narrow path—the narrow curse. <br>Ah, wonder, if I dare to doubt <br> If sin of mine prescribed for me <br> This mean and niggard universe? <br> <br>The end that is upon my face <br> And in my wizened soul I wait— <br> The end that I shall count for good. <br>Yet they who pass me in the race <br> Left me to falter to my fate: <br> They did not slay me when they should. <br> <br>But yet He found ‘that it was good’. <br> Ah! surely in the soul of God <br> For me some kindly pity is? <br>Or else I wonder how He could <br> Raise me—a soul—up from the sod, <br> Lift me from Nothingness—to this! <br> <br>Yet—thin weak lips and woman-chin— <br> Some unknown debt to me is paid, <br> Some sacrifice I may not see. <br>I expiate some other’s sin. <br> I am God’s weakling. He who made <br> The still, strong man, made also me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Arthur+Henry+Adams">Arthur Henry Adams</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348514" data-title="The Weakling de Arthur Henry Adams" data-description="I AM a weakling. God, who made 
 The still, strong man, made also me. 
 The God who could the tiger plan, 
In his lithe splendour unafraid— 
 A thing of flame and poetry— 
 That Puissance made of me—a Man! 
 
The One who reared His vast desi..."></div>
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