William Wordsworth

Upon The Punishment Of Death

YE brood of conscience--Spectres! that frequent The bad Man's restless walk, and haunt his bed-- Fiends in your aspect, yet beneficent In act, as hovering Angels when they spread Their wings to guard the unconscious Innocent-- Slow be the Statutes of the land to share A laxity that could not but impair 'Your' power to punish crime, and so prevent. And ye, Beliefs! coiled serpent-like about The adage on all tongues, "Murder will out," How shall your ancient warnings work for good In the full might they hitherto have shown, If for deliberate shedder of man's blood Survive not Judgment that requires his own?

Comment Section just now

Feel free to be first to leave comment.

8/2200 - 0