Classic Poem

Let me strike my foe down,
If stricken he should be,
Face to face in any place
Of battle-bravery.
Let our arms be equal,
And never let me use
Petty vantage-place or power
To smite him from, in a dark hour
Rather let me lose.

Or, if chance comes to me
To shut his worth away
Year by year, from the world's ear,
With silence or word-sway,
Let me fling it from me,
Ashamed of coward odds,
And then, avengeless, to him wend
And make of him instead a friend—
Or leave him to the Gods.