Poem by George Meredith

Atkins

Yonder's the man with his life in his hand,
Legs on the march for whatever the land,
Or to the slaughter, or to the maiming,
Getting the dole of a dog for pay.
Laurels he clasps in the words 'duty done,'
England his heart under every sun:-
Exquisite humour! that gives him a naming
Base to the ear as an ass's bray. 

1. Modern Love. Sonnet 12. Not Solely that the Future She Destroys
2. Joy Is Fleet
3. Modern Love. Sonnet 24. The Misery is Greater, as I Live!
4. Modern Love. Sonnet 39. She Yields: my Lady in her Noblest Mood
5. Modern Love. Sonnet 41. How Many a Thing which We Cast to the Ground

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