<h4><SPAN name="A_BALLADE_OF_SUICIDE" id="A_BALLADE_OF_SUICIDE"></SPAN>A BALLADE OF SUICIDE</h4>
<p>The gallows in my garden, people say,<br/>
Is new and neat and adequately tall.<br/>
I tie the noose on in a knowing way<br/>
As one that knots his necktie for a ball;<br/>
But just as all the neighbours—on the wall—<br/>
Are drawing a long breath to shout "Hurray!"<br/>
The strangest whim has seized me.... After all<br/>
I think I will not hang myself to-day.<br/>
<br/>
To-morrow is the time I get my pay—My<br/>
uncle's sword is hanging in the hall—<br/>
I see a little cloud all pink and grey—<br/>
Perhaps the rector's mother will <i>not</i> call—<br/>
I fancy that I heard from Mr. Gall<br/>
That mushrooms could be cooked another way—<br/>
I never read the works of Juvenal—<br/>
I think I will not hang myself to-day.<br/>
<br/>
The world will have another washing day;<br/>
The decadents decay; the pedants pall;<br/>
And H.G. Wells has found that children play.<br/>
And Bernard Shaw discovered that they squall;<br/>
Rationalists are growing rational—<br/>
And through thick woods one finds a stream astray,<br/>
So secret that the very sky seems small—<br/>
I think I will not hang myself to-day.<br/>
<br/>
ENVOI<br/>
<br/>
Prince, I can hear the trumpet of Germinal,<br/>
The tumbrils toiling up the terrible way;<br/>
Even to-day your royal head may fall—<br/>
I think I will not hang myself to-day.<br/>
<br/><br/></p>
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