“
With the pirouettes of marionettes,
They tripped on pointed tread;
But with flutes of fear they filled the ear,
As their grisly masque they led,
And loud they sang, and long they sang,
For they sang to wake the dead.
And all the woe that moved him so
That he gave that bitter cry,
And the wild regrets and the bloody sweats,
None knew so well as I:
For he who lives more lives then one
For more deaths that one must die.
—
Oscar Wilde~The ballad of reading Gaol
