I met a friend of mine the other day Upon the platform of a West End car; We shook hands, and my friend began to say Quickly, as if he were not going far, "Last summer something rather in your way Came to my knowledge. I was asked to see A young man who had come to talk with me Because I was a clergyman; and he Told me at once that he had served his time In the state-prison for a heinous crime, And was just out. He had no friends, or none To speak of; and he seemed far gone With a bad cough. He said he had not done The thing. They all say that. You cannot tell. He might not have been guilty of it. Well, What he now wanted was some place to stay, And work that he could do. I managed it With no great trouble. And then, there began The strangest thing I ever knew. The man, Who showed no other signs of a weak wit, Was hardly settled in his place a week When he came round to see me, and to speak About his lodging. What the matter was He could not say, or would not tell the cause, But he must leave that place; he could not bear To stay. I found another room, but there After another week he could not stay. Again I placed him, and he came to say At the week's end that he must go away. So it went on, week after week, and then At last I made him tell me. It appears That his imprisonment of fifteen years Had worn so deep into the wretch's brain That any place he happened to remain Longer than one day in began to seem His prison and all over again to him; And when the thing had got into this shape, He was quite frantic till he could escape. Curious, was not it? And tragical." "Tragical? I believe you! Was that all? What has become of him?" "Oh, he is dead. I told some people of him, and we made A decent funeral for him. At the end It came out that his mother was alive— An outcast—and she asked our leave to attend The ceremony, and then asked us to give The silver coffin plate, carved with his name, And the flowers, to her." "That was touching. She Had some good left her in her infamy." "Why, I don't know! I think she sold the things, Together with a neck-pin and some rings That he had left, and drank. ... But as to blame. ... Good-morning to you!" and my friend stepped down At the street crossing. I went on up town. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...O MORS! QUAM AMARA EST MEMORIA TUA HOMINI PACEM HABENTI by ERNEST CHRISTOPHER DOWSON THE CHINESE NIGHTINGALE; A SONG IN CHINESE TAPESTRIES by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THE LONELY CHILD by JAMES OPPENHEIM TO ALFRED TENNYSON, MY GRANDSON by ALFRED TENNYSON THE INCENSE BURNER by ABUS SALT D.O. BARNETT by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB SPRING FANTASIES: 2. THE SPRING RETURNS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |