THE Ermine rather chose to die A martyr of its purity, Than that one uncouth soil should stain Its hitherto preserved skin; And thus resolv'd she thinks it good To write her whiteness in her blood. But I had rather die, than e'er Continue from my foulness clear; Nay, I suppose by that I live, That only doth destruction give: Madman I am, I turn mine eye On every side, but what doth lie Within, I can no better find Than if I ever had been blind. Is this the reason thou dost claim Thy sole prerogative, to frame Engines against thyself? O, fly Thyself as greatest enemy, And think thou sometimes life will get By a secure contemning it. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEFILED SANCTUARY by WILLIAM BLAKE CINQUAIN: NOVEMBER NIGHT by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR by RUDYARD KIPLING DEATH AND THE MONK by ARTHUR E. BAKER SEA BUTTERFLIES by DON BLANDING THE DOWNS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |