The Gallows
A gallows stands in the midnight light;
The empty rope swings left to right.
The rotting steps stand bleak and bare
Though many feet had passed through there.
A shadow recalls the wretched waiting;
Of rusty bars and iron door grating.
A teeming mob and rasping cheers
And a little child who stood in tears:
“They’re taking his life, who gives them the right?”
“The people, Dear.”
Of a man in black and a tickle of sweat
And the feel of the noose around his neck.
The yank of the rope and the gasp of the crowd;
The thrill of the watching,
The heads that were bowed.
Recalling it all for the thousandth time
The morning rang out with silver chimes.
Melting away beyond the bridge,
He left us all this heritage:
A gallows stands in the morning light,
The empty rope swings left to right.
With death advanced in range and scope
We use much swifter means than rope.
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