The Fighter
By Gilbert Parker
Blows I have struck, and blows a-many taken,
Wrestling I’ve fallen, and I’ve rose up again;
Mostly I’ve stood —
I’ve had good bone and blood;
Others went down though fighting might and main.
Now Death steps in,
Death the price of sin:
The fall it will be his; and though I strive and strain,
One blow will close my eyes, and I shall never waken.
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