Enoch Powell: First Poems: III) I hate the ugly, hate the old

I hate the ugly, hate the old,

I hate the lame and weak,

But more than that I hate the dead

That lie so still in their earthen bed

And never dare to rise.

I only love the strong and bold,

The flashing eye, the reddening cheek,

But more than all I love the fire

In youthful limbs, that wakes desire

And never satisfies.