WE never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies. The heroism we recite Would be a daily thing, Did not ourselves the cubits warp For fear to be a king. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE IMMORTAL MIND by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE SISTER'S TRAGEDY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH HOW DOES THE RAIN COME? by CHARLES ROLLIN BALLARD THE BLASPHEMER'S WARNING; A LAY OF ST. ROMWOLD by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM FIAMMETT: SONNET. OF FIAMMETTA SINGING by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO |