FLING him amongst the cobbles of the street Midmost along a mob's most turbid tide; Stun him with tumult upon every side -- Wrangling of hoarsened voices that repeat His awful guilt and howl for vengeance meet; Let white-faced women stare, all torrid-eyed, With hair blown forward, and with jaws dropped wide, And some face like his mother's glimmer sweet An instant in the hot core of his eyes. Then snatch him with claw hands, and thong his head That he may look no way but toward the skies That glower lividly and crackle red, -- There let some knuckled fist of lightning rise -- Draw backward flickeringly and knock him dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD WOMAN by JOSEPH CAMPBELL THE SEAMY SIDE OF MOTLEY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS NORTHERN EARTH MOOD by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. ON RECEIPT OF A RARE PIPE by W. H. B. DIGNITY OF LABOR by LEVI BISHOP HUGH STUART BOYD: HIS DEATH, 1848 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: SONG (2) by THOMAS CAMPION |