I have sinned, like others, blindly, without thought and without fear, <br />And my best friends say it kindly, ‘You should go away from here.’ <br />Shall I fly the paltry spirit of a narrow little town, <br />While the battle-drums are beating for the men who live it down? <br />Down the street where all men know me I can walk with level eyes, <br />They believe the lies about me, they can sneer, but I despise. <br />From my black and bitter childhood, from my dull and joyless youth, <br />It is I who—it is I who—I and Christ who know the truth! <br /> <br />I have sinned, but as a man might; like a man I’ll rise again <br />From long nights of mental torture, from long days of care and pain. <br />Pass me by with eyes averted, with a shrug or with a frown, <br />But their heads shall bow in ashes long ere my head shall go down! <br /> <br />Ah! the curs, who dare not trespass, quick to sneer and quick to blame; <br />But the wider world is kinder—it takes long to damn a name. <br />There’s a heart that’s worth a million and a head that’s worth a crown, <br />And the flash of bright eyes sometimes for the men who live it down. <br /> <br />There’s a hand-grip close and silent, firm in trust and sympathy, <br />Sends the old thrill through my being, sends the old hopes up in me. <br />There is one who’ll stand beside me when the screen is round my bed, <br />And the godly pass their stricture on the sinner who is dead. <br /> <br />When the crape is round my picture and my mad, wild spirit’s free— <br />And you realise how little you have ever known of me <br />When the worst is said and printed by the coward and the clown, <br />Then, I trust, a friend might answer—‘There lies one who lived it down.’<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-men-who-live-it-down/
