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Robert W Service - The HomicideRobert W Service - The Homicide
Work rating: Medium


They say she speeded wanton wild     When she was warm with wine; And so she killed a little child,     (Could have been yours or mine). The Judge`s verdict was not mild,     And heavy was the fine. And yet I see her driving still,     But maybe with more care . . . Oh I should hate a child to kill     With vine leaves in my hair; I think that I should grieve until     Life was too bleak to bear. I think that I would see each day     That child in beauty grow. How she would haunt me in her play.     And I would watch her go To School a-dancing on her way,     With gladness all aglow! And then one day I might believe,     With angel eyes ashine, She`d say to me: `Please do not grieve,     Maybe the fault was mine. Take heart,—to Heaven`s comfort cleave,     For am I not divine!` I think I know how I would feel     If I a child should slay; The rest of living I would kneel     And for God`s pity pray . . . Madam, I saw you at the wheel     Of your new car today.
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