Classic Poem

Mere torture-chamber has this world been to me,
Where by the heels the hangman me suspended,
With red-hot pincers all my members rended,
Then into cramping iron fetters threw me.
Wild shrieks of nameless pain resounded through me,
From mouth and eyes the blood was streaming furious —
A lady passing by stopped, cool and curious;
With golden hammer's coup de grâce she slew me,
Then curious looked she on while in contortion
My limbs were writhing, in Death's grim abortion.
From bleeding mouth my tongue hung out and quivered —
Curious she gazed, while still my weak heart shivered —
My last death-rattle seemed sweet music to her,
And to a cold and mocking laughter drew her.