all greedy, Knock first! Where have your manners fled? I threw—and fear has made me speedy— Dishes of ripe fruit—at your head. AMONG FOES (OR AGAINST CRITICS) (After a Gipsy Proverb) Here the gallows, there the cord, And the hangman's ruddy beard. Round, the venom-glancing horde:— Nothing new to me's appeared. Many times I've seen the sight, Now laughing in your face I cry, "Hanging me is useless quite: Die? Nay, nay, I cannot die!" Beggars all! Ye envy me Winning what ye never won! True, I suffer agony, But for you—your life is done. Many times I've faced death's plight, Yet steam and light and breath am I. Hanging me is useless quite:
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