Page:A channel passage and other poems (IA channelpassageot00swinrich).pdf/133



England consummate the crime That binds the murderer's hand, and leaves No surety for the trust of thieves? Time pleads against it—truth and time— And pity frowns and grieves.

The hoary henchman of the gang Lifts hands that never dew nor rain May cleanse from Gordon's blood again, Appealing: pity's tenderest pang Thrills his pure heart with pain.