n-trees cover
Her grave with spines. I pray
That each in its fall will prick her and shove her
To colder clay.
But ... yonder! ... she's up! and moans in the heather
A whimpering thing!
I'll bury her deeper in Autumn weather ...
Or Winter ... or Spring.

And then if she comes with them still to call me
Each night, I'll tell her loud
He was mine! and laugh when they try to pall me
With sea and shroud.
And I'll swear not to care for Christ or Devil.
They'll skitter back
To the waves, at that, and be gone with their revel....
God spare me the rack!

NIGHT-RIDERS[1]

[1] This clan of tobacco outlaws in Kentucky during 1907-1908
cast such disgrace on her good name as years will not suffice
to erase.

See them mount in the dead of night--
Men, three hundred strong!
Armed and silent, masked from the light,
Speeding swartly along.
What is their errand? manly fight?
Clench with a manly foe?
I would rather be dead of wrong
Than ride among them so.

See them enter the sleeping town.
Hear the warning shot!
Keep to your beds, free men--down, down!
Dare you to move?--dare not!
These are your masters--these who crown
Black Anarchy their king--
I would rather my hand should rot
Than have it do this thing.

See them steal to the house they seek--
Brave men, O, brave all!
There lies a sick boy, fever-weak;
Who comes forth at call?
A woman? "Go in, you bitch!" they reek.
"Give us the old man out!"
Rather my bitten tongue should fall
To palsy than so shout.

And--they have him, "the old man," now,
Bound--with nine beside.
One, a Judge of the Law's grave brow,
Sworn by it to bide.
"Lash him!"--a hundred lashes plow
A free-born back with pain!
God, shall we let such cowards ride
And burn and beat and stain?

O the shame, and the bitter shame,
That thus, across our land,
Crime can arise and write her name
Broad, with a bloody hand!
O the shame, and the bitter shame
Upon our chivalry.
I would rather have led the band
That diced on Calvary.

So, Night-errants, ride on and ride--
Avenging, wrongly, wrong.
But when the children at your side
Grow lawless up and strong;
When at their drunken hands you've died
As beasts beside your door,
You will repent, God knows it--long,
These nights to Hell made o'e