Retribution

There was silence in the chamber;—
     Czolgosz seated in the chair,
Wires hummed the sad death rattle,
     Flashing blue light here and there.

The warden grasped the lever
     That switched the well-aimed blow,
And asked the trembling culprit:
     “Are you ready, sir, to go?”

               Czolgosz Replies:

“I own I shot McKinley,
     For shooting is my creed,
Nor can I say before I die
     I’m sorry for the deed.

“I swore that I would kill him,
     The deed at last was done,
And now that death doth claim me—
     Farewell! my race is run.

“Turn on the current! I’m ready!”
     No sign of pain he bore;
A corpse now in the chair he sat—
     The murderer is no more.