"
In vain, in vain! that sleeper never woke.
His murderer fled, but on his brow was fixed
A stain which baffled wear and washing. As he fled
A voice pursued him to the wilderness:
"Where is thy brother, Cain?"
"Am I my brother's keeper?"
O black impiety! that seeks to shun
The dire responsibility of sin--
That cries with the ever-warning voice:
"Be still--away, the crime is not my own--
My brother lived--is dead, when, where,
Or how, it matters not, but he is dead.
Why judge the living for the dead one's fall?"
"Am I my brother's keeper?"
Cain, Cain,
Thou art thy brother's keeper, and his blood
Cries up to Heaven against thee; every stone
Will find a tongue to curse thee; and the winds
Will ever wail this question in thy ear:
"Where is thy brother?" Every sight and sound
Will mind thee of the lost.
I saw a man
Deal death unto his brother. Drop by drop
The poison was distilled for cursed gold;
And in the wine cup's ruddy glow sat Death,
Invisible to that poor trembling slave.
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