Tolerance by Thomas Hardy

"IT is a foolish thing," said I, / "To bear with such, and pass it by; / Yet so I do, I know not why!"

And at each clash I would surmise / That if I had acted otherwise / I might have saved me many sighs.

But now the only happiness / In looking back that I possess- / Whose lack would leave me comfortless-

Is to remember I refrained / From masteries I might have gained, / And for my tolerance was disdained;

For see, a tomb. And if it were / I had bent and broke, I should not dare / To linger in the shadows there.