OH, I am weak; a man am I of clay, Who has strange fevers racing in his blood Which drive me panic-like from paths of good; For I am son of sires who plunged in play, Knowing that they, at least, no price should pay; Bold cavaliers who with mad kings have stood In revel till their stock of fatherhood Passed half polluted to the present day. Yet though I 'm bound in chains which will not break, But which shall ever bind me hour by hour, Still have I faith He will in mercy take My hand in His, and give me of His power, And through the stormy years my manhood make As strong and firm as some great granite tower. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 17 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE KISS TO THE FLAG by JEAN FRANCOIS VICTOR AICARD THE ASSUMPTION by JOHN BEAUMONT THE BIRD FANCIER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET VERITAS by BERNICE BROWN BETTMAN PSALM 21. DOMINE IN VIRTUTE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |