Here, where the lonely hooting owl
Sends forth his midnight moans,
Fierce wolves shall oer my carcase growl,
Or buzzards pick my bones.
No fellow-man shall learn my fate,
Or where my ashes lie;
Unless by beasts drawn round their bait,
Or by the ravens cry.
Yes! Ive resolved the deed to do,
And this the place to do it:
This heart Ill rush a dagger through,
Though I in hell should rue it!
Hell! What is hell to one like me
Who pleasures never know;
By friends consigned to misery,
By hope deserted too?
To ease me of this power to think,
That through my bosom raves,
Ill headlong leap from hells high brink,
And wallow in its waves.
Though devils yell, and burning chains
May waken long regret;
Their frightful screams, and piercing pains,
Will help me to forget.
Yes! Im prepared, through endless night,
To take that fiery berth!
Think not with tales of hell to fright
Me, who am damnd on earth!
Sweet steel! come forth from our your sheath,
And glistning, speak your powers;
Rip up the organs of my breath,
And draw my blood in showers!
I strike! It quivers in that heart
Which drives me to this end;
I draw and kiss the bloody dart,
My lastmy only friend!
The Suicide's Soliloquy
written byAbraham Lincoln
© Abraham Lincoln