 | Poems |  |
70
“GREAT STATESMEN.”
Like plummet in mid ocean sounding,Like him who crystals would be rounding,
Are they who rule, and fashion laws,—
Things that are chiefly made of flaws.
And yet, men dub them great; the while
Angels or weep, or pitying smile.
But why, blind as they are, why rail about them?
The world 's so bad, it cannot do without them.
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