The Totem

Ere the mother's milk had dried On my lips, the Brethren came, Tore me from my nurse's side, And bestowed on me a name Infamously overtrue, Such as "Bunny," "Stinker," "Podge"; But, whatever I should do, Mine for ever in the Lodge. Then they taught with palm and toe, Then I learned with yelps and tears, All the Armoured Man should know Through his Seven Secret Years... Last, oppressing as oppressed, I was loosed to go my ways With a Totem on my breast Governing my nights and days, Ancient and unbribeable, By the virtue of its Name, Which, however oft I fell, Lashed me back into The Game. And the World, that never knew, Saw no more beneath my chin Than a patch of rainbow-hue, Mixed as Life and crude as Sin.