There's a deadly kind of wrestling Known by wily Japanese, That can break a little finger, Or a back, with equal ease. There are mystic holds and turnings, There are crafty tricks galore, There are fatal twists and pressures, And -- a corpse is on the floor. But, of all the sly devices There is one prime art to know: Make your pliant body fluid To the lunging of your foe. Let him at you, blind with fury, Aiming at a single point: And, as thus he plunges forward, Jerk his shoulder out of joint! It's a risky kind of combat, Not the thing for me and you; But I'll venture to find in it Just a parable or two. This, for instance: When Affliction Thrusts, impetuous, at your heart, Don't attack him, don't resist him; Act a while a yielding part. Let him wear himself upon you, Let him buffet empty space; Then, when he is quite exhausted, Throw his thigh-bone out of place! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVENING SONG OF THE THOUGHTFUL CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOT SIX DIFFERENCES by MARVIN BELL THE WHITE PEACOCK by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET IN EQUAL SACRIFICE by ROBERT FROST THE BIRDS DO THUS by ROBERT FROST A SONG OF ETERNITY IN TIME by SIDNEY LANIER |