NOT mine to draw the cloth-yard shaft
From straining palm to thrilling ear;
Then launch it through the monster’s hulk,
One thrust, from front to rear.
Mine is the Bushman’s tiny bow,
Whose wounds the foeman hardly feels;
He laughs, and lifts his hand to smite,
Then suddenly he reels.
(Harry Lyman Koopman)
More Poetry from Harry Lyman Koopman:
- Sea and Shore (Harry Lyman Koopman Poems)
- John Brown (Harry Lyman Koopman Poems)
- Revealed (Harry Lyman Koopman Poems)
- Icarus (Harry Lyman Koopman Poems)