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Author: Alexander Burdette

I will confess that thou hast wronged me much,
And railest oft against my very name
And pilest me up with perjured slanders, such
As aim to foster hate and to defameโ€”
But though this tempest follows fast and fleet,
It moves me not, nor never shall I fall,
For in this onslaught not a word is meet
To move the devilโ€™s dam to any gall.
Thy words are shadows, having them no might,
And shadesโ€™ offence is mended, so it seems,
By thinking them the fancies of the night:
Thy words and thou are no more true than dreams.
ย ย  ย Then let this โ€œifโ€ for our peacemaker be:
ย ย  ย If thou art nothing, Iโ€™ll have none of thee.

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