Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 235
CCXXXV
Therefore I wrote it, not that men should buy—
I care not, I, to sell my soul for bread.
The craving senses must themselves be dead
Before the soul in such extremes could die.
Therefore I wrote it, not that men should cry,
"This is well thought of!" "This is bravely said!"
For flattery's poison is a thing to dread
More than the steel-tipped shafts of enmity.
I care not, I, to sell my soul for bread.
The craving senses must themselves be dead
Before the soul in such extremes could die.
Therefore I wrote it, not that men should cry,
"This is well thought of!" "This is bravely said!"
For flattery's poison is a thing to dread
More than the steel-tipped shafts of enmity.