The Outlaw
Priest, is any song-bird stricken? Is one leaf less on the tree? Is this wine less red and royal That the hangman waits for me? He upon your cross that hangeth, It is writ of priestly pen, On the night they built his gibbet, Drank red wine among his men. Quaff, like a brave man, as he did, Wine and death as heaven pours-- This is my fate: O ye rulers, O ye pontiffs, what is yours? To wait trembling, lest yon loathly Gallows-shape whereon I die, In strange temples yet unbuilded, Blaze upon an altar high.
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"Priest, is any song-bird stricken?..."
Gilbert Keith Chesterton's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "The Outlaw"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...