On the Death-bed

‘I'll tell—being past all praying for—

Then promptly die. . . . He was out at the war,

And got some scent of the intimacy

That was under way between her and me;

And he stole back home, and appeared like a ghost

One night, at the very time almost

That I reached her house. Well, I shot him dead,

And secretly buried him. Nothing was said.

‘The news of the battle came next day;

He was scheduled missing. I hurried away,

Got out there, visited the field,

And sent home word that a search revealed

He was one of the slain; though, lying alone

And stript, his body had not been known.

‘But she suspected. I lost her love,

Yea, my hope of earth, and of Heaven above;

And my time's now come, and I'll pay the score,

Though it be burning for evermore.’

-o0o-