VII
I read my sentence steadily,Reviewed it with my eyes,To see that I made no mistakeIn its extremest clause,—
The date, and manner of the shame;And then the pious formThat “God have mercy” on the soulThe jury voted him.
I made my soul familiarWith her extremity,That at the last it should not beA novel agony,
But she and Death, acquainted,Meet tranquilly as friends,Salute and pass without a hint—And there the matter ends.