 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
480
AT BAY
Desperate, at last I stand
Ready, Fate, with open hand
To grasp yours, or to strike
Blow for blow—just as you like.
Ready, Fate, with open hand
To grasp yours, or to strike
Blow for blow—just as you like.
You have dogged me day by day—
Chased me when a child at play:
Even from the mother-nest
Pushed me when I needed rest.
Chased me when a child at play:
Even from the mother-nest
Pushed me when I needed rest.
You have crouched along my track
Like a hound, and hurled me back,
While your dog's-tongue lapped the blood
Of my murdered babyhood.
Like a hound, and hurled me back,
While your dog's-tongue lapped the blood
Of my murdered babyhood.
Pitilessly, year by year,
From the farthest past to here,
You have fallen like a blight
On each blossom of delight.
From the farthest past to here,
You have fallen like a blight
On each blossom of delight.
You have risen up between
Me and every hope serene
That has promised rest at last
From the trials of the past.
Me and every hope serene
That has promised rest at last
From the trials of the past.
481
You have shut the light of day
From my present—stolen away
All my faith in better things
Than sheer desperation brings.
From my present—stolen away
All my faith in better things
Than sheer desperation brings.
But as now I come to know
That I may no farther go,
I have turned—not to resist,
But to greet you hand or fist.
That I may no farther go,
I have turned—not to resist,
But to greet you hand or fist.
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |