"I dare not think--I cannot pray;
To name the name of God were sin:
No grief of mine can wash away
The consciousness of guilt within.
The stain of blood is on my hand,
The curse of Cain is on my brow;--
I see that ghastly phantom stand
Between me and the sunshine now!
That mocking face still haunts my dreams,
That blood-shot eye that never sleeps,