Once, long ago, a wise friend said to me:Never be satisfied with half a loaf,But claim the whole!

And yet, withal, how frequently,Gaining a modicum of promised peace,A little higher sense of Love, some sweet surcease,Some little lifting of the trial we bear,We are so satisfied to linger there.Strangely, and even passively, content,We wait within the vestibule of Soul,Afraid, or all too diffident,To pass the ever-open portal throughAnd confidently, joyously, attain untoThe perfect goal.

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