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Show A Ruined Life. (Three te.-futlful lines were written by a man who co-miiltict suicide not many yvara srii within a tfcutllsh prison. II birHthvs tha soldrst aspect of a hopelessly hope-lessly rulneJ lite.) Klfiht, and the vuyng done, no pilot waiting To tnka ma o'er the har: Ahme I've s ilk-d. alene I rrrf the cordage. No hrlp from renr nor fur: And tliu' acrosa the aca a wind la blowing blow-ing That naught of pence doth tell. Trl In the silent Imrtxir where I'm going aly aoul ahifll alurp elecp well. T battleships that crush your wretched nevrr-rndtrg war, ' Tloll out yuur guna upon the great broad Tt ciinnnt cross tha bar: ' And Ititie do I reek of those who cenaure, or pity or alih.ir: 'Tis all loo late: 'Its all ao very uaolesa. Not worth the waiting for. Nor nticht nor day la any pleaaure bringing bring-ing To train diseased and aore; I only henr the tnointna of the ocean t'pon the rnrk-alrt shore: And so I wnlt not for thy tardy coming, TwIllKhf and evrnlna slur: With helm gone, I haute to reef the cor-dica cor-dica Wllluu th harbor bar. |