And pierces the heart with a dagger of pain.
There’s the unearthly laugh and the sickening leer
Of the idiot—wretched Unfortunate! dead
Before born, the live sepulchre of unknown crimes,
The tomb of the lives generations have led!
There’s the blasting, blistering, withering laugh
That blights e’en the heart wherein it is born,
That bubbles and sputters and hisses and spits
As it falls from the scorching lips of scorn.
There’s a strange, weird laugh, even tho’ from a child,