all pom-pom of fame! * * * * Be not known too soon! Be one that has hoarded renown! 81 Wilt thou grasp at the thorns? Thy fingers must pay. Grasp at a poniard. 85 Be a tablet of gold, They will grave upon thee In golden script. 86 Upright he stands With more sense of "justice" In his outermost toe Than I have in all my head. A virtue-monster Mantled in white. 87 Already he mimics himself, Already weary he grows,
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