Only idealists fight wide open Making fancy moves, each one an essay, While the crafty fellows, more rugged, Get in the dirty work When the referee isn't looking. The arc of a blow may thrill in retrospect, But who sprawls first, Whose blood muddies the canvas, Is what counts in a brawl. Give me a cool and simple-seeming chap With a snakey left that looks harmless; A lithe, poised fellow a wind could tip over Until you try it. Fly in to finish him And his left will blind you; Sneak over a low one And your jaw pays usury. Fists and body carved for slaughter When there's butchering to be done, He'll close one of your eyes Before he breaks your nose, And then your teeth will answer for it. Teasing you into range, He whistles over a right That makes the canvas burst Under your brain. This fellow loathes you and your game; If he picks you up There'll be no mercy in it. He carries his heart in a safe place; His brain is the trip-hammer that whips the bullets at his side. But you'll know him in victory. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC POET, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE by JOHN MILTON THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 27 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE CASE OF SABRINA SIMPSON USCH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE ETERNAL JUSTICE by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 28. AS-BAZIR by EDWIN ARNOLD PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 92. AL-ZARR by EDWIN ARNOLD TWO HELPERS by MARY RUSSELL BARTLETT |