I read my sentence-steadily-
Reviewed it with my eyes,
To see that I made no mistake
In its extremest clause-
The Date, and manner, of the shame-
And then the Pious Form
That “God have mercy” on the Soul
The Jury voted Him-
I made my soul familiar-with her extremity-
That at the last, it should not be a novel Agony-
But she, and Death, acquainted-
Meet tranquilly, as friends-
Salute, and pass, without a Hint-
And there, the Matter ends-