Upon the threshold, red-eyed Murder stands, <br />Fresh from his slaughter-house of human meat, <br />Blood on his broken teeth and on his hands, <br />Blood on his nails and on his purple feet. <br />With hollow voice he speaks, and sick'ning breath, <br />'A way there is, that only way is death!…. <br />The dead will rise no more,-the dead are dead! <br />The spared will creep behind the sparer's back, <br />And breathe their plots and stab. The dead are dead! <br />And lie along the safe triumphal track. <br />The young-eyed babe, will lisp it's little tales. <br />The loving girl will slay her main in bed <br />Kissing his savage mouth, the victor fails <br />At Mercy's seat. The dead are safely dead'.<br /><br />Leon Gellert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/murder-41/
