If we decide to till our farms,
They don't care to help us with their arms
We are hungry while they are in satisfactory
Is only food we always battle for ...
I thought to do a deed of chivalry,
An act of worth, which haply in her sight
Who was my mistress should recorded be
And of the nations. And, when thus the fight
Faltered and men once bold with faces white
Turned this and that way in excuse to flee,
I only stood, and by the foeman's might
Was overborne and mangled cruelly.
... Read complete poem
