In evil hour, I, too, believed
    For fabrications more absurd
    Than the aspersions I had heard
    Have wiser ears than mine deceived.
    I fought suspicion, vainly tried
    To cast each rising doubt aside.
    But he who lists to tales of ill
    Believes in part, despite his will.
    Then in my face, as in a book,
    She read one sad distrustful look,
    A look of pity, yet of doubt,
    For silence cries most loudly out,
    And who can smile with visage bright
    To shield misgivings black as night?

     And stood once more erect and free:
    Thus ended my captivity.

        *       *       *       *       *

    A guard lay prostrate on the sand,
    His rifle in his lifeless hand;
    I wrenched it from his rigid clutch,
    Then played the ghoul in self-defence,
    For clothing and accoutrements
    Escaped not my despoiling touch;
    I breathed the air of liberty,
    Alone I stood, but armed and free.
   