This poem was included in the original 1915 edition.
I WAS not beloved of the villagers, But all because I spoke my mind, And met those who transgressed against me With plain remonstrance, hiding nor nurturing Nor secret griefs nor grudges. That act of the Spartan boy is greatly praised, Who hid the wolf under his cloak, Letting it devour him, uncomplainingly. It is braver, I think, to snatch the wolf forth And fight him openly, even in the street, Amid dust and howls of pain. The tongue may be an unruly member-- But silence poisons the soul. Berate me who will--I am content.
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anonymous , 2 days ago
i can relate with this epitath on great levels. i see how dorcas feels for i am not one to hide how i feel, or to go down without a fight. he seems to be a very blunt character. just like i am.