The New World
The maniac screamed—struck out and fell

Across his brother’s arm. Love could not quell

His anger. Wrists together high in air

He rose and with a yell

Brought down his handcuffs toward his brother’s face—

But his hands were pinned below his waist,

By a burly, silent sheriff, and some hideous thing was bound

Around his arms and feet

And he was laid upon the narrow seat.

And then that sound,

That moan

Of one forsaken and alone!

“Seigneur! Le createur du ciel et de la terre!

Forgotten me! Forgotten me!”

.... And when the voice grew weak

The brother leaned again, embraced

The huddled body. But a shriek

Repulsed him: “Non! Détache-moi! I don’t care

For you. Non! Tu es l’homme qui m’a trahi!

Non! Tu n’es pas mon frère!”


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