Conscientious Objector

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

I hear him leading his horse from 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 cinches the girth.

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

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

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

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

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

Though he promises 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.

By: Edna St. Vincent Millay