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.
Poems From "a Shropshire Lad" - Xlv
Alfred Edward Housman
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Poem topics: friend, soul, play, sickness, chance, stand, sound, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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