large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_49_robinson_64kb_53
large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_49_robinson_64kb
English
10730
. . . As I watched him Lying there dead in the scattered sawdust, Wet with a day's blown froth, I noted That things were still; that the walnut tables, Where men but a moment before were sitting, Were gone; that a screen of something around me Shut them out of my sight. AS I WATCHED HIM LYING THERE DEAD IN THE SCATTERED SAWDUST WET WITH A DAY'S BLOWN FROTH I NOTED THAT THINGS WERE STILL THAT THE WALL LIT TABLES WHERE MEN BUT A MOMENT BEFORE WERE SITTING WERE GONE THAT A SCREEN OF SOMETHING AROUND ME SHUT THEM OUT OF MY SIGHT
 murmur of life, like bees; and I listened And laughed again to think of the flower That grew, blood-red, for me! . . . This fellow Was one of the popular sort who flourish Unruffled where gods would fall. For a conscience He carried a snug deceit that made him The man of the time and the place, whatever The time or the place might be. Were he sounding, With a genial craft that cloaked its purpose, Nigh to itself, the depth of a woman Fooled with his brainless art, or sending The midnight home with songs and bottles, -- The cad was there, and his ease forever Shone with the smooth and slippery polish That tells the snake. That night he drifted Into an up-town haunt and ordered -- Whatever it was -- with a soft assurance That made me mad as I stood behind him, Gripping his death, and waited. Coward, I think, is the name the world has given To men like me; but I'll swear I never Thought of my own disgrace when I shot him -- Yes, in the back, -- I know it, I know it Now; but what if I do? THROUGH IT AND OVER AND UNDER IT ALL THERE SOUNDED A MURMUR OF LIFE LIKE BEES AND I LISTENED AND LAUGHED AGAIN TO THINK OF THE FLOWER THAT GREW BLOOD RED FOR ME THIS FELLOW WAS ONE OF THE POPULAR SORT WHO FLOURISHED UNRUFFLED WHERE GODS WOULD FALL FOR CONSCIENCE HE CARRIED A SNUG DECEIT THAT MADE HIM THE MAN OF THE TIME AND THE PLACE WHATEVER THE TIME WHEN THE PLACE MIGHT BE WERE HE SOUNDING WITH GENIAL CRAFT THAT CLOAKED ITS PURPOSE NIGH TO ITSELF THE DEPTH OF A WOMAN FOOLED WITH HIS BRAINLESS ART OR SENDING THE MIDNIGHT HOME WITH SONGS AND BOTTLES THE CAT WAS THERE AND HIS EASE FOREVER SHONE WITH THE SMOOTH AND SLIPPERY POLISH THAT TELLS THE SNAKE AT NIGHT HE DRIFTED INTO AN UPTOWN HAUNT AND ORDERED WHATEVER IT WAS WITH A SOFT ASSURANCE THAT MADE ME MAD AS I STOOD BEHIND HIM GRIPPING HIS DEATH AND WAITED COWARD I THINK IS A NAME THE WORLD HAS GIVEN TO MEN LIKE ME BUT I'LL SWEAR I NEVER THOUGHT OF MY OWN DISGRACE WHEN I SHOT HIM YES IN THE BACK I KNOW IT I KNOW IT NOW BUT WHAT IF I DO
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