Arthur Stringer’s speaker pushes back against the claim that love is the only lasting emotion. He insists that hatred can be just as strong and just as enduring. He feels born from centuries of violence and sin, so hate seems almost inherited rather than chosen. He hates particular hours, issues, creeds, deeds, doubts, and even certain men completely. Even with mothers and gentle women begging for peace, he cannot let go of his anger.
The speaker calls hate a gift and imagines it as a crown pressed onto his heart by a “King of Evil.” That image creates a dark, bitter, and tormented mood. He sounds powerful and unashamed, but also trapped and wounded—proud of his hatred, yet clearly suffering under its weight. Stringer turns hatred into something old, heavy, and almost impossible to escape.