Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
King Alfred and the Peasant WomanAnna Wickham
T
Well, to new chivalry that is no great thing!
I am my father’s daughter, lady!
And he’s a pretty figure in the ring.
While all the house might burn and he’d not sorrow;
Nor had I any warrant that his scheming
Would bring us any victory on the morrow.
He’d be a dead man if he were not stung;
Could any man keep hands down, and me lashing?
Friend, you insult my tongue!
Though I’m not built for blows upon the heart.
Give me a breast-plate, and I’ll at ’em,
Though that’s fool-woman’s part!
After the fight I drove him to is won,
He’ll find his woman with her glory on her.
Please God, the child’s a son!