"I dare not think--I cannot pray;
To name the name of God were sin:
No grief of mine can wash away
The consciousness of guilt within.
The stain of blood is on my hand,
The curse of Cain is on my brow;--
I see that ghastly phantom stand
Between me and the sunshine now!
That mocking face still haunts my dreams,
That blood-shot eye that never sleeps,
In night and darkness--oh, it gleams,
Like red-hot steel--but never weeps!
And still it bends its burning gaze
On mine, till drops of terror start
From my hot brow, and hell's fierce blaze
Is kindled in my brain and heart.
I long for death, yet dare not die,
Though life is now a weary curse;
But oh, that dread eternity
May bring a punishment far worse!"
No comments:
Post a Comment