His Spirit in smoke ascended to high heaven. His father, by the cruelest way of pain, Had bidden him to his bosom once again; The awful sin remained still unforgiven. All night a bright and solitary star (Perchance the one that ever guided him, Yet gave him up at last to Fate's wild whim) Hung pitifully o'er the swinging char. Day dawned, and soon the mixed crowds came to view The ghastly body swaying in the sun. The women thronged to look, but never a one Showed sorrow in her eyes of steely blue. And little lads, lynchers that were to be, Danced round the dreadful thing in fiendish glee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH: FOR A LADY I KNOW by COUNTEE CULLEN TWO WITCHES: 2. THE PAUPER WITCH OF GRAFTON by ROBERT FROST HESPERIA by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 15. ON DOMESTIC MANNERS (UNFINISHED) by MARK AKENSIDE THRENODY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE BLASPHEMER'S WARNING; A LAY OF ST. ROMWOLD by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM BLUE HOURS: 1. CLOUD-HORSE by RICK BAROT |