Classic Poem

He did not rise, till he had led
The safe-lock into place, slowly.
Then something told him he was dead —
He or the other, whose blear head,
With blood-shot raging shaggy eyes
Now held him in a brutal grip:
For death before itself oft flies
In premonition. ... When he rose
He felt his hand on something close.

It was a leaden paper-weight
Upon the desk — Old Garth now rasped,
" A thief, by God: and I this late
In knowing it." The words were fate.
" If you say that I 'll kill you." Jess
Was strangled with the lying truth.
" I 'll take what's mine — no more, no less." —
" You 'll take the road to jail, you bastard,
And learn how such as you are mastered."

The words went through the boy. He thought,
" Am I a bastard?" ... Then, " I'm lost!
He 'll see me sentenced! I am caught.
Oh, Mother!" ... then his senses fought.
The moon died as a moment passed,
The river rippled a black blot.
Old Garth within the door was massed.
" Stand back," cried Jess, " and let me go."
He saw the shape move toward him slow.

And then he felt within his hand
The weight — how cold it was — like death.
But terror gave him the command:
He seized and flung it as a brand —
For all things suddenly were flame
Before his eyes ... above the heart
Of the old man with awful aim
It struck — and down his victim sank. . . .
The gusty candle went out dank.

Yet in the horror of the dark
Jess stood there, waiting for a blow,
A curse — death even, swift and stark,
To make of him a sudden mark.
It fell not, but the creeping night
Became an infinite accusal
That pressed upon him — till in fright
He stumbled toward the door — and felt
A lump there at his feet. He knelt.

There was no beat of heart or pulse.
Clairvoyantly Jess saw the face,
As one sees under waters dulse.
Why did it not rage out insults?
" He can't be dead!" Jess cried, " he can't!"
But who intentless ever slew
And did not that same anguish pant?
We kill and then would die to see
Breath where breath nevermore can be.

A moan wrung Jess. He shook and rose,
Sought for the candle, gave it flame.
The room came out of the night's throes —
But as a witness , now, that knows.
What should he do? He saw gleaming
Along the floor the deadly weight.
And then ... " Heart failure!" came streaming
Into his thought. " I 'll leave him so,
And none ... no one can ever know."

But first the weight. It must be placed
Back on the desk; and yet he shrank:
It was as if his fingers faced. . . .
Lifting the dead man's heart. ... Yet haste,
Hasten he must. So from the floor
He seized it up. Then with his hand
Crushed out the light, and to the door,
Across the unabusive dead,
Hurried with trembling haunted tread.

The river dreamed, the stars shone,
The cool wind with the night trysted.
But in the world Jess was alone
As all who kill are: God seemed stone.
Or was there any God in Heaven?
The gulfs above him and within
Seemed destitute of kindly leaven:
Only for misery and doom
Did the wide universe have room.

He would have run, he would have fled,
But knew he must not. He must go
Quietly home and to his bed,
And there lie in the arms of Dread.
But word to Ellen must be sent
That he was ill. For well he knew
That fever with its parching breath
Would dry in him for long the dew
Of health — nor scarcely give him time
To shape concealment of his crime.