Behold me waiting -- waiting for the knife. A little while, and at a leap I storm The thick, sweet mystery of chloroform, The drunken dark, the little death-in-life. The gods are good to me: i have no wife, No innocent child, to think of as I near The fateful minute; nothing all-too dear Unmans me for my bout of passive strife. Yet am I tremulous and a trifle sick, And, face to face with chance, I shrink a little: My hopes are strong, my will is something weak. Here comes the basket? Thank you. I am ready. But, gentlemen, my porters, life is brittle: You carry Caesar and his fortunes - steady! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE ROAD by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR MINNIE AND WINNIE by ALFRED TENNYSON SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 19. THE SOUTHERN PASSION by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE LADY UNKNOWN by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK A MEMORY by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE MAGGOTS OF FLATTERY by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) SCENES FROM THE MAGICO PRODIGIOSO by PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA |