To the year 1889.
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Have I no ^weapon‑word for thee—some message brief |
and fierce? |
Have I fought out ^and done indeed the battle? wholly? is |
there no shot left, |
For all thy affectations, lisps, scorns, ^manifold silliness? |
Nor for myself—my own rebellious self [one letter illegible] in thee? |
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two leads |
Down, down, proud gorge—tho' choking thee, |
Thy bearded throat and high-borne forehead to the |
gutter, |
Crouch low thy neck to eleemosynary gifts. |
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