I WAS not beloved of the villagers, But all because I spoke my mind, And met those who transgressed against me With plain remonstrance, hiding nor nurturing Nor secret griefs nor grudges. That act of the Spartan boy is greatly praised, Who hid the wolf under his cloak, Letting it devour him, uncomplainingly. It is braver, I think, to snatch the wolf forth And fight him openly, even in the street, Amid dust and howls of pain. The tongue may be an unruly member -- But silence poisons the soul. Berate me who will -- I am content. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SABBATH OF THE SOUL by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM, THE MURDERER by THOMAS HOOD THE HARLEM DANCER by CLAUDE MCKAY A LEGEND OF BREGENZ by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER PSALM 115 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ASSASSINS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |