Carolyn Wells

At the Sign of the Sphinx Carolyn Wells

THE time has come. The waiting populaceBreathlessly watch him as he slowly mountsThe scaffold. Though his timid, trembling stepsBetoken fear, with calm and steady gazeHe sees my whole above his head. So bright!So glittering! On that his eyes are fixed. Garbed all in white, a rope about his waist, My first upon his feet; silent, althoughHe suffers agonies untold. But hark!He calls for drink. By some kind hand is passedTo him a brimming tumbler, and withinHe sees my last and he is glad. He drinks, Then once again turns to my whole. Brave man!He fears not death, but murmurs to himself: "This only I desire, that when I dieMen say I did my work and did it wel