I bleed Sebastian's brother on the ground, No good it does me: or I hang my hand My harp-hand on the Haman tree, but no -- My blood smiles from the ground in pride, My hand makes music when winds blow. There is no martyrdom worse than a life, Nor can it be bought off with a sacrifice. I cannot cut my body to St. Peter's key, Or, nipping off the hip-rose with a knife Make me archangel, nor with a kiss Claim thirty shillings, for no one will buy The plaster Jesus that my master is, Crossed on my pain and crucified in my eye. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ETERNITY by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH FAIRY TALE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE SAVING WAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH MY HAPPINESS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE WILLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BOTANICAL GARDENS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SQUIRE BOWLING GREEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TOWARD THE GULF; DEDICATED TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |