35 Sonnets — Sonnet XXXIV

XXXIV.

Happy the maimed, the halt, the mad, the blind— All who, stamped separate by curtailing birth, Owe no duty’s allegiance to mankind Nor stand a valuing in their scheme of worth!

But I, whom Fate, not Nature, did curtail, By no exterior voidness being exempt, Must bear accusing glances where I fail, Fixed in the general orbit of contempt.

Fate, less than Nature in being kind to lacking, Giving the ill, shows not as outer cause, Making our mock-free will the mirror’s backing Which Fate’s own acts as if in itself shows;

And men, like children, seeing the image there, Take place for cause and make our will Fate bear.