.the.fatal.lozenge.txt

An Apparition of her lover She recognizes with dismay; and later on she will discover that he himself had died today.
The Baby, lying meek and quiet Upon the customary rug, Has dreams about rampage and riot, And will grow up to be a thug.
The Cad decides he has grown weary Of this affair, and that is that; And so he tells her just how dreary He thinks she is, then leaves the flat.
The Drudge expends her life in mopping, In emptying and filling pails; And she will do so, never stopping, Until her strength entirely fails.
The Effigy, got up with clothing Abstracted from the victim's room, Is raised aloft to cheers of loathing before it meets a flaming doom.
The Fetishist gets out the hassock, Turns down the lamp, and bolts the door; Then in galoshes and a cassock, He worships It upon the floor.
The Governess up in the attic Attempts to make a cup of tea; Her mind grows daily more erratic From cold and hunger and ennui.
The Hermit lives among the boulders, He wears no garment but a sack; By slow degrees his reason molders, The sun has long since burnt him back.
The Invalid wakes up in terror To feel his toes becoming numb; The doctor's made another error - What unknown symptoms are to come?
The Journalist surveys the slaughter, The best in years without a doubt; He pours himself a gin and water and wonders how it came about.
The Keeper, when it's time for luncheon, Flings down his charge upon the bed, And taking out a home-made truncheon, Belabours him about the head.
The Lazar, blessed with an appearance Enough to give the strongest qualms, Has little need of perseverance In prompting a display of alms.
The Magnate waits upon the pavement For his enormous limousine, And ponders further child-enslavement And other projects still more mean.
The Nun is fearfully bedeviled: She runs about and moans and shrieks; Her flesh is bruised, her clothes disheveled: She's been like this for weeks and weeks.
The Orphan whom there's none to cherish Strays trough the gloom on naked feet; She presently will fall and perish Unnoticed in some squalid street.
The Proctor buys a pupil ices, And hopes the boy will not resist When he attempts to practice vices Few people even know exist.
The Quarry, fleeing from the outing, Sinks panting in the reeds and mud; And hearkens to the distant shouting That tells him they are out for blood.
The resurrectionist goes plying Without ado his simple trade; Material is always dying and got with nothing but a spade.
The Suicide, as she is falling Illuminated by the moon, Regrets her act and finds appalling The thought she will be dead so soon.
The Tourist huddles in the station While slowly night gives way to dawn; He finds a certain fascination In knowing all the trains are gone.
The Sight of Uncle gives no pleasure, But rather causes much alarm; The children know that at his leisure He plans to have them come to harm.
The Visitor was somewhat pensive When she arrived to pay a call; But how she's faint and apprehensive From hours of waiting in the hall.
The Wanton, though she knows its dangers, Must needs smear kohl about her eyes, And wake the interest of strangers with long-drawn, hoarse, erotic sighs.
The Xenophobe grabs at the table, He feels his toes and fingers curl; For he is only barely able To keep from striking down the girl.
The Yegg on rubber soles comes creeping Inside the house when it is late, And while the occupants are sleeping, Removes the heirlooms and the plate.
The Zouave used to war and battle Would sooner take a life than not: It scarcely has begun to prattle When he impales the hapless tot.