Dorcas Gustine looks back on her life without regret. The villagers disliked her because she refused to hide her opinions or swallow grievances. When someone wronged her, she said so plainly and moved on rather than letting bitterness fester. She contrasts this with the old story of a Spartan boy who hid a wolf under his cloak and let it eat him silently, which people often admire as stoic endurance. To her, true courage is different: pull the wolf out and fight it in the open, even if the struggle is loud, dusty, and painful. She knows the tongue can be an unruly thing and that speaking out has cost her affection. But silence, she believes, poisons a person from within. The mood is proud, defiant, and calm—she will accept criticism because she is at peace with the way she lived.
Dorcas Gustine — Summary
I was not beloved of the villagers, But all because I spoke my mind, And met those who transgressed against me With plain remonstrance, hiding nor nurturing Nor secret griefs nor grudges. That act of the Spartan boy is greatly praised, Who hid the wolf under his cloak, Letting it devour him, uncomplainingly. It is braver, I think, to snatch the wolf forth And fight him openly, even in the street, Amid dust and howls of pain. The tongue may be an unruly member— But silence poisons the soul. Berate me who will—I am content.