The rest? Oh, nothing. They hunted me, and with virtuous
lawyers' virtuous tears
To a virtuous jury, convicted me; and I'm sentenced to stay here
for twenty years.
Do I repent? Yes, I do; but wait till I tell you of what I repent,
and why.
I repent that I ever believed a man could be anything but a
living lie!
I repent because every noble thought, or hope, or ambition, or
earthly trust,
Is as dead as dungeon-bleached bones in me,--as dead as my
child in its murdered dust!
Do I repent that I killed the babe? Am I repentant for that,
you ask?
I'll answer the truth as I feel it, sir; I leave to others the pious
mask.
Am I repentant because I saved its starving body from Famine's
teeth?
Because I hastened what time would do, to spare it pain and
relieve its death?
Am I repentant because I held it were better a _grave_ should
have no name
Than a _living being_, whose only care must come from a mother
weighed with shame?
Am I repentant because I thought it were better the tiny form
lay hid
From the heartless stings of a brutal world, unknown, unnamed,
'neath a coffin lid?
Am I repentant for the act, the last on earth in my power, to save
From the long-drawn misery of life, in the early death and the
painless grave?
I'm _glad_ that I did it! Start if you will! I'll repeat it over; I
say I'm _glad_!
No, I'm neither a fiend, nor a maniac--don't look as if I were
going mad!
Did I not love it? Yes, I loved with a strength that you, sir, can
never feel;
It's only a strong love can kill to save, tho' itself be torn where
time cannot heal.
You see my hands--they are red with its blood! Yet I would
have cut them, bit by bit,
And fed them, and smiled to see it eat, if that would have
saved and nourished it!
"Beg!" I _did_ beg,--and "pray!" I _did_ pray! God was as stony
and hard as Earth,
And Christ was as deaf as the stars that watched, or the night
that darkened above his birth!
And I--I feel stony now, too, like them; deaf to sorrow and
mute to grief!
Am I heartless?--yes:--it-is-_all_-=cut=-OUT! Torn! Gone! All
gone! Like my dead belief.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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