Abraham Lincoln

The Suicide’s Soliloquy

Here, where the lonely hooting owl
Sends forth his midnight moans,
Fierce wolves shall o’€™er my carcase growl,
Or buzzards pick my bones.
 
No fellow-man shall learn my fate,
Or where my ashes lie;
Unless by beasts drawn round their bait,
Or by the ravens’€™ cry.
 
Yes! I’€™ve resolved the deed to do,
And this the place to do it:
This heart I’€™ll rush a dagger through,
Though I in hell should rue it!
 
Hell! What is hell to one like me
Who pleasures never know;
By friends consigned to misery,
By hope deserted too?
 
To ease me of this power to think,
That through my bosom raves,
I’€™ll headlong leap from hell’€™s high brink,
And wallow in its waves.
 
Though devils yell, and burning chains
May waken long regret;
Their frightful screams, and piercing pains,
Will help me to forget.
 
Yes! I’€™m prepared, through endless night,
To take that fiery berth!
Think not with tales of hell to fright
Me, who am damn’€™d on earth!
 
Sweet steel! come forth from your sheath,
And glist’€™ning, speak your powers;
Rip up the organs of my breath,
And draw my blood in showers!
 
I strike! It quivers in that heart
Which drives me to this end;
I draw and kiss the bloody dart,
My last’€”my only friend!
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