WHEN the last bitterness was past, she bore Her singing Caesar to the Garden Hill, Her fallen pitiful dead emperor. She lifted up the beggar's cloak he wore -- The one thing living that he would not kill -- And on those lips of his that sang no more, That world-loathed head which she found lovely still, Her cold lips closed, in death she had her will. Oh wreck of the lost human soul left free To gorge the beast thy mask of manhood screened! Because one living thing, albeit a slave, Shed those hot tears on thy dishonored grave, Although thy curse be as the shoreless sea, Because she loved, thou art not wholly fiend. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOUNTAIN WHIPPOORWILL (A GEORGIA ROMANCE) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET FOR ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S EVE by MALCOLM COWLEY BATTLE OF BRITAIN by CECIL DAY LEWIS DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 1. SUNRISE IN THE TROPICS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON MONODY ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM MARION REEDY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |