Be not merciful in doing it!
Be not quick to quit!
For in not doing it
More heads have rolled
And yours might count in too;
If you do show that your heart still
Is in its sheath.
Summon guts,
Clench your teeth,
And severe the heart
Lest they blame their orneriness
On me,
That I told you not,
When time reasons with them.
Look not on those eyes
When you do it:
They will ask for pity
Which you cannot afford.
But you, and none other,
Must do it.
This heart,
Once in my own age I severed it
And freed the fruits of my loins
From a yoke of black sight,
From a yoke of blunt wits.
And now,
A duty you owe your loins
To lead the way
And bid them follow
That this heart stands not in their way
To pervade their wits
And make them drunk with galls.
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