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