I marvel how Nature could ever find space <br />For so many strange contrasts in one human face: <br />There's thought and no thought, and there's paleness and bloom <br />And bustle and sluggishness, pleasure and gloom. <br /> <br />There's weakness, and strength both redundant and vain; <br />Such strength as, if ever affliction and pain <br />Could pierce through a temper that's soft to disease, <br />Would be rational peace--a philosopher's ease. <br /> <br />There's indifference, alike when he fails or succeeds, <br />And attention full ten times as much as there needs; <br />Pride where there's no envy, there's so much of joy; <br />And mildness, and spirit both forward and coy. <br /> <br />There's freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare <br />Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she's there, <br />There's virtue, the title it surely may claim, <br />Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name. <br /> <br />This picture from nature may seem to depart, <br />Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart; <br />And I for five centuries right gladly would be <br />Such an odd such a kind happy creature as he.<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-character/
