Conscientious Objector

 I shall die, but 
that is all that I shall do for Death.

I hear him leading his horse out of the stall; 
I hear the clatter on the barn-floor.

He is in haste; he has business in Cuba,
business in the Balkans, many calls to make this morning.

But I will not hold the bridle
while he clinches the girth.

And he may mount by himself: 
I will not give him a leg up.
 

Though he flick my shoulders with his whip,
I will not tell him which way the fox ran.

With his hoof on my breast, I will not tell him where 
the black boy hides in the swamp.

I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death;
I am not on his pay-roll.
 

I will not tell him the whereabout of my friends 
nor of my enemies either.

Though he promise me much, 
I will not map him the route to any man's door.

Am I a spy in the land of the living,
that I should deliver men to Death?
Brother, the password and the plans of our city 
are safe with me; never through me Shall you be overcome.

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