If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MIDSUMMER FROST (2) by ISAAC ROSENBERG A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY by JOHN DRYDEN HYMN OF PAN by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE WASTE PLACES by JAMES STEPHENS THE MAYFLOWERS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER OPEN THY HEART by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |