THE cruellest torture that a man can know, Passing all Torquemada's racks, is said To be the ceaseless, measured, leisured, slow Drip-drop of water on the victim's head. Surely it were a torment like in kind, If in degree less maddening, to sit still Under the leakage of this good man's mind, The eternal trickle of this blameless quill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: ELENOR MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HYMN FOR EPIPHANY by REGINALD HEBER THE MULBERRY GARDEN: CHILD AND MAIDEN by CHARLES SEDLEY HUDSON RIVER ANTHOLOGY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TO MY FIANCEE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS OF BEAUTY by EVA K. ANGLESBURG TO MISS RIGBY, ON HER ATTENDANCE UPON HER MOTHER AT BUXTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |