In me a mating of anvil and of hammer. Life has thundered upon me blow on blow, And I have bent with bruised and tuneful clamor, Not quite believing that I willed it so. And I have domineered, as sires forgot Blustered bloodily over a fettered race: Men have seen man in me -- brute man; and they have not Guessed the weak maid back of the stern face. In me a mating of woman and of man, As in all poets. Too much of the maid Had sent me, flustered, to fail ere I began; Too much of man had dulled me to the shade, The half-note, the serene earth's whisperings: I walk, a war of balanced, deathless things. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THERE WAS A CHILD WENT FORTH by WALT WHITMAN ROMAIOS by WILLAM GAY BALLANTINE PENTRIDGE BY THE RIVER by WILLIAM BARNES WRESTLING by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON GRISELDA: CHAPTER 4 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT IN DEATH by MARY EMILY NEELEY BRADLEY |