Classic Poem

They do me wrong who show me sad of face,
Slender and stooped, gentle, and meek, and mild,
As if I were forever reconciled
To sting of hate and bitter of disgrace.
I was youth's lover, swiftest in the race,
Gay friend of beggars, brother to the wild,
No lily-featured, woman-hearted child,
But a great laugher, confident of place.

Shepherd and fisher, sailor, carpenter,
I strode the hills and fellowed with the sun,
Knew arms and bosoms and slow steady eyes,
Felt each new April through my body stir,—
Then, when 'twas over, and the loving done,
Even with a smile I slew my enemies.