The tragedy is complete. We have the picture of the soldier deprived of his uniform and the whole story is revealed to us. A more concise or supremely reticent description of the pathetic drama there could not be. But the picture must be filled in even to the most trivial detail, and we see the poor wretch taking his daily exercise among the prisoners awaiting their trial, attired in "a suit of shabby grey," trying to demean himself like a man and, trivial, but, from the artist's point of view, important detail, with a cricket cap on his head. There is a world of pathos and lines of unspoken tragedy in that cricket cap worn by a man whose days are numbered, who never will play a game again and whose mind must be occupied with thoughts far removed from sport and amusement save perhaps when they may revert to happy days spent with bat and ball, and which will never recur again. But though his step be jaunty, the oppression of his impending doom is on him, "I never saw a man who looked So wistfully at the day." We can see that prison yard, the circle of convicts pacing the melancholy round at ordered intervals and with measured tread, and the strong man, full of life and vigour looking up at God's blue sky and drinking in the air with greedy lungs. We can see the author of the poem, the erstwhile social favourite, in his convict garb walking "With other souls in pain Within another ring." and his horror as he receives the information muttered by some fellow-prisoner through closed lips that "That fellow's got to swing." In words, the simplicity and intensity of which are sublime, he tells us of how the news affected him-- "Dear Christ! the very prison walls Suddenly seemed to reel." That apostrophe to the Redeemer is a revelation in itself coming from a man who is enduring his own mortal agony, but his particular sorrows fade into insignificance and are forgotten in the presence of a fellow-creature's crucifixion-- "And, though I was a soul in pain, My pain I could not feel." Already he is purified by his months of trial and tribulation, and he can enter sympathetically into the sorrows of others and share their burden. He now understands the reason of the jaunty step and the defiant manner, he himself has tried to flee from his thoughts. "I only knew what hunted thought Quickened his step." He realises the meaning of that "wistful look" towards the vaulted canopy of heaven. The man had killed the thing he loved. "Yet each man kills the thing he loves By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word; The coward does it with a kiss The brave man with a sword."