The place is full of whispers -- 'Mark you, sirs, This one is he who struck our moralists mute Before the crime which proved him wholly brute! Mark well his face!' The gaping sight-seers Nudge one another, and no tongue but stirs In awe-struck comment on hat, coat, and boot, Mean smirking smile, base air of smug repute, Worn by some prince of viler murderers! Nay, I like most these lank-tressed doctrinaires Who cluster round their powerless guillotine; Aquiline, delicate, dark, their thin cheeks mired By their own blood -- these Carriers and Heberts: They only look so proud and so serene: They only look so infinitely tired! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PROCLAMATION by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SUNSET-MOOD by STANLEY E. BABB OFF BARNEGAT by ETHEL LYNN BEERS PSALM 5; AUGUST 12, 1653 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 40. FAREWELL TO JULIET (2) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT SONG by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |