Dead Man Walking

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5-7-2008 3:56 AM

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<div style="margin: 12px 0px; font-family: arial; color: #333333; background: #ffffff; border: solid 4px #e5e5e5; width: 100%; clear: left;"><div class="CM_CTB_Content_Wrap" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;background-color: #ffffff;"><div style="border-bottom: solid 1px #dcdcdc; white-space: nowrap; margin-bottom: 8px; background-color: #eeeeee ;background-image: url(http://www.clipmarks.com/images/source-bg.gif); background-repeat: repeat-x; height: 24px; line-height: 24px; vertical-align: middle; padding-bottom: 4px; color: #666666; font-size: 10px;" ><a href="http://clipmarks.com/clip-to-blog/" title="see clips that are hot right now"><img src="http://content.clipmarks.com/blog_embed/ee4fabdc-0958-473c-9bd4-cf06eacb50a9/FF88D5DE-06F4-4227-93D0-A98B3A543C73/" alt="" width="19" height="19" border="0" style="vertical-align: middle; margin: 0px 4px; display: inline; border: none; float:none;" /></a>clipped from <a title="http://www.poetry-archive.com/h/the_dead_man_walking.html" href="http://www.poetry-archive.com/h/the_dead_man_walking.html" style="font-size: 11px;">www.poetry-archive.com</a></div><blockquote style="text-align: left; padding: 0px 8px; margin: 4px 0px 8px 0px; background: transparent; border: none;" cite="http://www.poetry-archive.com/h/the_dead_man_walking.html"><FONT size="+1">THE DEAD MAN WALKING</FONT></blockquote><div style="height: 2px; font-size: 2px; background: #dcdcdc; border-bottom: solid 1px #f5f5f5; margin: 2px 4px;"></div><blockquote style="text-align: left; padding: 0px 8px; margin: 4px 0px 8px 0px; background: transparent; border: none;" cite="http://www.poetry-archive.com/h/the_dead_man_walking.html">Thomas Hardy</blockquote><div style="height: 2px; font-size: 2px; background: #dcdcdc; border-bottom: solid 1px #f5f5f5; margin: 2px 4px;"></div><blockquote style="text-align: left; padding: 0px 8px; margin: 4px 0px 8px 0px; background: transparent; border: none;" cite="http://www.poetry-archive.com/h/the_dead_man_walking.html"><UL>
                    <DL>
                      <DT><FONT size="+2"><IMG width="22" height="25" border="0" align="bottom" naturalsizeflag="3" src="http://www.poetry-archive.com/h/../t_pic.gif" /></FONT>HEY hail
                      me as one living,
                      </DT><DT>But don't they know
                      </DT><DT>That I have died of late years,
                      </DT><DT>Untombed although?
                      </DT><DT> 
                      </DT><DT>I am but a shape that stands here,
                      </DT><DT>A pulseless mould,
                      </DT><DT>A pale past picture, screening
                      </DT><DT>Ashes gone cold.
                      </DT><DT> 
                      </DT><DT>Not at a minute's warning,
                      </DT><DT>Not in a loud hour,
                      </DT><DT>For me ceased Time's enchantments
                      </DT><DT>In hall and bower.
                      </DT><DT> 
                      </DT><DT>There was no tragic transit,
                      </DT><DT>No catch of breath,
                      </DT><DT>When silent seasons inched me
                      </DT><DT>On to this death ....
                      </DT><DT> 
                      </DT><DT>-- A Troubadour-youth I rambled
                      </DT><DT>With Life for lyre,
                      </DT><DT>The beats of being raging
                      </DT><DT>In me like fire.
                      </DT><DT> 
                      </DT><DT>But when I practised eyeing
                      </DT><DT>The goal of men,
                      </DT><DT>It iced me, and I perished
                      </DT><DT>A little then.
                      </DT><DT> 
                      </DT><DT>When passed my friend, my kinsfolk,
                      </DT><DT>Through the Last Door,
                      </DT><DT>And left me standing bleakly,
                      </DT><DT>I died yet more;
                      </DT><DT> 
                      </DT><DT>And when my Love's heart kindled
                      </DT><DT>In hate of me,
                      </DT><DT>Wherefore I knew not, died I
                      </DT><DT>One more degree.
                      </DT><DT> 
                      </DT><DT>And if when I died fully
                      </DT><DT>I cannot say,
                      </DT><DT>And changed into the corpse-thing
                      </DT><DT>I am to-day,
                      </DT><DT> 
                      </DT><DT>Yet is it that, though whiling
                      </DT><DT>The time somehow
                      </DT><DT>In walking, talking, smiling,
                      </DT><DT>I live not now.
                    </DT></DL>
                  </UL></blockquote></div><div style="margin: 0px 6px 6px 4px;"><table style="font-size: 11px;border-spacing: 0px;padding: 0px;" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"><tr><td style="background:transparent;border-width:0px;padding:0px;">&nbsp;</td><td align="right" style="background:transparent;border-width:0px;padding:0px;width:107px" width="107"><a href="http://clipmarks.com/share/FF88D5DE-06F4-4227-93D0-A98B3A543C73/blog/" title="blog or email this clip"><img src="http://content7.clipmarks.com/images/c2b-foot.png" border="0" alt="blog it" width="107" height="17" style="border-width:0px;padding:0px;margin:0px;" /></a></td></tr></table></div></div>

tags:

betrayal