Tyburn.(Poem)

 
TYBURN 
 
   On one side is a bustling city street 
   And over on the other side the park. 
   You loiter on the corner and you watch 
   The afternoon beginning to go dark. 
 
   This unassuming spot was the abyss, 
   The gaping terror of so many hearts, 
   And here for generations they were brought 
   On a never-ending convoy of carts. 
 
   How grimly in the mind's eye they pass 
   As here and there you recollect a name, 
   A few who have a mention in the books, 
   The tiny consolation of their fame. 
 
   But mostly you are dimly picturing 
   The sadder multitudes of the unknown, 
   Whose anguishes were never History 
   But just a little matter of their own-- 
 
   Who swung for a petty misadventure, 
   Some desperate, impulsive little theft, 
   Some error now too utterly obscure 
   For any knowledge of it to be left-- 
 
   Or even were entirely innocent 
   And who died by some malice or mistake: 
   The juvenile, the ...