Yonder's the man with his life in his hand, Legs on the march for whatever the land, Or to the slaughter, or to the maiming, Getting the dole of a dog for pay. Laurels he clasps in the words 'duty done,' England his heart under every sun:- Exquisite humour! that gives him a naming Base to the ear as an ass's bray. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRUCE AND THE SPIDER by BERNARD BARTON OLD POETS by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER I SAW THREE SHIPS by MOTHER GOOSE TO ALFRED TENNYSON, MY GRANDSON by ALFRED TENNYSON A JEWISH FAMILY; IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST. GOAR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |