What grim adventures has this dagger known! How much of blood and terror has it drunk, Into how many bosoms has it sunk Bringing swift peace with scarce a sigh or moan. Tyrants, perchance, this blade has overthrown Amid their sins, unshriven by the monk. Under its touch vast projects may have shrunk Into a bleeding body, lying prone. How many murderous hands have gripped this haft, How many lovers as they kissed and laughed, Have perished as this weapon came in play? Not many—for this ancient-looking blade Was manufactured for the antique trade In Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, U.S.A. |