Cannot a tired pedestrian who has footed it afar
Here on his way from northern parts, engrossed in humble marketings,
Come in and rest awhile, although judicial doings are
Afoot by morning star?"
"O, come, come!" laughed the constables. "Why, man, you speak the
dialect
He uses in his answers; you can hear him up the stairs.
So own it. We sha'n't hurt ye. There he's speaking now! His
syllables
Are those you sound yourself when you are talking unawares,
As this pretty girl declares."
"And you shudder when his chain clinks!" she rejoined. "O yes, I
noticed it.
And you winced, too, when those cuffs they gave him echoed to us
here.
They'll soon be coming down, and you may then have to defend
yourself
Unless you hold your tongue, or go away and keep you clear
When he's led to judgment near!"
"No! I'll be damned in hell if I know anything about the man!
No single thing about him more than everybody knows!
Must not I even warm my hands but I am charged with blasphemies?" .
. .
- His face convulses as the morning cock that moment crows,
And he stops, and turns, and goes.
THE OBLITERATE TOMB
"More than half my life long
Did they weigh me falsely, to my bitter wrong,
But they all have shrunk away into the silence
Like a lost song.
"And the day has dawned and come
For forgiveness, when the past may hold it dumb
On the once reverberate words of hatred uttered
Half in delirium .
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