Here are three poems by Arthur Christopher Benson. They mostly talk about
courage and reputation, mostly they focus on one's self.

Courage By: Arthur Christopher Benson

I have been brave in my way,
Though men did not call me brave;
They deem that I creep away,
If ever a pennon wave
Over the flashing fray.
Yet I have lain through the night
Shuddering, open-eyed,
Straining my aching sight
To see what leant at my side,
Angel or sullen sprite.
Then in the haggard day, --
Cruel and cold it shone, --
Sighing in sad dismay,
I bind my armour on;
Have been brave, I say.

Self By: Arthur Christopher Benson

This is my chiefest torment, that behind
The brave and subtle spirit, the swift brain,
There sits and shivers, in a cell of pain,
A groping atom, meloncholy, blind,
Which is myself; -- Though, when spring suns are kind,
And rich leaves riot in the genial rain,
I cheat him, dreaming: slip my rigorous chain,
Free as a skiff before the dancing wind.
Then he awakes: and vexed that I am glad,
In dreary malice strains some nimble cord,
Pricks his hin claw Within some delicate nerve;
And all at once I falter, start, and swerve
From my true course, to fall, unmanned and sad,
Into gross darkness, tangible, abhored.

"I am Small and of no Reputations; Yet do I not forget thy Commandments" By Arthur Christopher Benson

How small a thing am I, of no repute, 
Whirled in the rush of these eternal tides; 
Spun daily round upon this orb that rides 
Among its peers, itself how most minute! 
Yet as I muse in sad comparison, 
Restless and frail, I thrill with sudden awe, 
Clasped in the large embrace of life and law 
That, howsoe'er I falter, bear me on. 
So should a drop within the sluggish vein 
Of some vast saurian, (that slumbers deep 
In seas undreamed of, rolling through the swell) 
In labyrinthine artery swim and creep, 
Yet hear far off, again and yet again, 
The vasty heart beat in his central cell.
 Assonance- There is repitition of the word "I."
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