Poetry Archives

The Thing must End. I am no boy! I am
 No boy! I being twenty-one. Uncle, you make
 A great mistake, a very great mistake,
In chiding me for letting slip a “Damn!”
What’s more, you called me “Mother’s one ewe
      lamb,”
 Bade me “refrain from swearing—for her sake—
 Till I’m grown up” . . .—By God! I think you
      take
Too much upon you, Uncle William!

You say I am your brother’s only son.
I know it. And, “What of it?” I reply.
My heart’s resolved. Something must be done.
So shall I curb, so baffle, so suppress
This too avuncular officiousness,
Intolerable consanguinity.