THE gallows in my garden, people say, Is new and neat and adequately tall. I tie the noose on in a knowing way As one that knots his necktie for a ball; But just as all the neighbours -- on the wall -- Are drawing a long breath to shout "Hurray!" The strangest whim has seized me. . . . After all I think I will not hang myself to-day. To-morrow is the time I get my pay -- My uncle's sword is hanging in the hall -- I see a little cloud all pink and grey -- Perhaps the rector's mother will @3not@1 call -- I fancy that I heard from Mr. Gall That mushrooms could be cooked another way -- I never read the works of Juvenal -- I think I will not hang myself to-day. The world will have another washing day; The decadents decay; the pedants pall; And H. G. Wells has found that children play, And Bernard Shaw discovered that they squall; Rationalists are growing rational -- And through thick woods one finds a stream astray, So secret that the very sky seems small -- I think I will not hang myself to-day. Prince, I can hear the trump of Germinal, The tumbrils toiling up the terrible way; Even to-day your royal head may fall -- I think I will not hang myself to-day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OF MONEY by BARNABY (BARNABE) GOOGE A SOUL'S SOLILOQUY by WENONAH STEVENS ABBOTT THOREAU'S FLUTE by LOUISA MAY ALCOTT COMFORT IN AFFLICTION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE END OF THE SUNSET TRAIL by ALMA C. BINGHAM ODE by ANNE CHARLOTTE LYNCH BOTTA AWAITING THE GUILLOTINE, 1794 by ANDRE MARIE CHENIER AD CHLOEN, M.A.; FRESH FROM HER CAMBRIDGE EXAMINATION by EDWARD JAMES MORTIMER COLLINS |