Is ‘Death’, when evil against good has fought
With such fell mastery that a man may dare
By deeds the blackest purpose to lay bare?
Is Death, for one to that condition brought,
For him, or any one, the thing that ought
To be ‘most’ dreaded? Lawgivers, beware,
Lest, capital pains remitting till ye spare
The murderer, ye, by sanction to that thought
Seemingly given, debase the general mind;
Tempt the vague will tried standards to disown,
Nor only palpable restraints unbind,
But upon Honour’s head disturb the crown,
Whose absolute rule permits not to withstand
In the weak love of life his least command.
Read all of William Wordsworth's poems · About William Wordsworth
More by William Wordsworth
- Sonnets Upon The Punishment Of Death - In Series, 1839 – V - Not To The Object Specially Designed
- Sonnets Upon The Punishment Of Death - In Series, 1839 – VI - Ye Brood Of Conscience Spectres!
- Sonnets Upon The Punishment Of Death - In Series, 1839 – VII - Before The World Had Past Her Time Of Youth
- Sonnets Upon The Punishment Of Death - In Series, 1839 – VIII - Fit Retribution, By The Moral Code
- Sonnets - I - Desponding Father! Mark This Altered Bough
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