The time has come. The waiting populace Breathlessly watch him as he slowly mounts The scaffold. Though his timid, trembling steps Betoken fear, with calm and steady gaze He sees my whole above his head. So bright! So glittering! On that his eyes are fixed. Garbed all in white, a rope about his waist, My first upon his feet; silent, although He suffers agonies untold. But hark! He calls for drink. By some kind hand is passed To him a brimming tumbler, and within He sees my last and he is glad. He drinks, Then once again turns to my whole. Brave man! He fears not death, but murmurs to himself: “This only I desire, that when I die Men say I did my work and did it well.” The scene was merry, b…
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