‘Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,
That nearer, every Day,
Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel
Until the Agony
Toyed coolly with the final inch
Of your delirious Hem –
And you dropt, lost,
When something broke –
And let you from a Dream –
As if a Goblin with a Gauge –
Kept measuring the Hours –
Until you felt your Second
Weigh, helpless, in his Paws –
And not a Sinew — stirred — could help,
And sense was setting numb –
When God — remembered — and the Fiend
Let go, then, Overcome –
As if your Sentence stood — pronounced –
And you were frozen led
From Dungeon’s luxury of Doubt
To Gibbets, and the Dead –
And when the Film had stitched your eyes
A Creature gasped “Reprieve”!
Which Anguish was the utterest — then –
To perish, or to live?
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