Normale Version: Capital Punishment
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Capital Punishment

Think better of thy fellows – ye who dare
Stop the warm current of a brother’s heart;
‘T is not to mark the death-damp of his fear
And mortal agony, when ye shall part

The soul from its strong tenement – not this –
Not this doth call them from their secret ways,
From haunts of crime, and nature’s seats of bliss,
Toil-worn and travel-stained for many days:

No! even we, in chambers pent, like them,
Feel the wild anguish of a fellow’s pang –
The pleading of a pulse, which ye condemn,

That calls us forth as if a bugle rang.
The wronger is the wronged, such impulse lies
In every human heart when thus a brother dies.