Because I am the white man's son -- his own Bearing the bastard birth-mark on my face, I will dispute his title to his throne, Forever fight him for my rightful place. There is a searing hate within my soul, A hate that only kin can feel for kin, A hate that makes me vigorous and whole, And spurs me on increasingly to win. Because I am my cruel father's child, My love of justice stirs me up to hate, A warring Ishmaelite, unreconciled, When falls the hour I shall not hestitate Into my father's heart to plunge the knife To gain the utmost freedom that is life. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEAD MAN'S DUMP by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE CALL OF THE WILD by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE MANNERLY MARGERY, MILK AND ALE by JOHN SKELTON STELLA'S BIRTHDAY, 1720 by JONATHAN SWIFT FRIENDS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |