Will swell the swift editions hour by hour,
More than high news of war or of debate,
The death of heroes or the throes of state.
From club-room to street-corner runs the cry
After the newest fact, or latest lie:
The hurrying throng unfolded broad-sheets grasp,
And read with goggled eyes and lips a-gasp,
Blood! Blood! More Blood! It makes hot lips go pale,
But gives the sweetest zest to the unholy tale.
What wonder if the Horror, homaged thus