WHEN I behold Becchina in a rage, Just like a little lad I trembling stand Whose master tells him to hold out his hand. Had I a lion's heart, the sight would wage Such a war against it, that in that sad stage I'd wish my birth might never have been plann'd And curse the day and hour that I was bann'd With such a plague for my life's heritage. Yet even if I should sell me to the Fiend, I must so manage matters in some way That for her rage I may not care a fig; Or else from death I cannot long be screen'd. So I'll not blink the fact, but plainly say It's time I got my valor to grow big. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOROTHY DANCES by LOUIS UNTERMEYER WINTRY WEATHER by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) THE NEED FOR MEN by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND MOONRISE by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS TACT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON DAUGHTERS OF WAR by ISAAC ROSENBERG |