Iii

There was a man whom I knew well Whose choice it was to live in hell; Reason there was why that was so But what it was I do not know.

He had a room high in a tower, And sat there drinking hour by hour, Drinking, drinking all alone With candles and a wall of stone.

Now and then he sobered down, And stayed a night with me in town. If he found me with a crowd, He shrank and did not speak aloud.

He sat in a corner silently, And others of the company Would note his curious face and eye, His twitching face and timid eye.

When they saw the eye he had They thought perhaps that he was mad. I knew he was clear and sane But had a horror in his brain.

He had much money and one friend And drank quite grimly to the end. Why he chose to die in hell I did not ask, he did not tell.