(In “The Survey.”)
Three doomed men in the death house write
A word like a torch from their night to my night.
Three doomed men in Sing Sing wait
Through the fading black of the night, a fate
That I made for them, I—
I said “You must die.”
They will die at dawn. But before they go
They write me a word, that I, too, may know.
They sit and write, the three doomed men,