Death Sentence

Since you have been condemned

To die at dawn,

You must yourself attempt

To stop the sun.

For it will surely rise

Sometime next week

Before your very eyes,

Unless you speak.

And then what prayers can hope

To set you free,

Who are yourself the rope

And the hangman's tree?

What secret grief presume

To mourn you dead,

Who are the fresh-turned loam,

The grave-digger's spade?