The Inquest

I took my oath I would enquire,

Without affection, hate, or wrath,

Into the death of Ada Wright-

So help me God! I took that oath.

When I went out to see the corpse,

The four months babe that died so young,

I judged it was seven pounds in weight,

And little more than one foot long.

One eye, that had a yellow lid,

Was shut-so was the mouth, that smiled;

The left eye open, shining bright-

It seemed a knowing little child.

For as I looked at that one eye,

It seemed to laugh, and say with glee:

“What caused my death you’ll never know-

perhaps my mother murdered me.”

When I went into court again,

To hear the mother’s evidence-

It was a love-child, she explained,

And smiled, for our intelligence.

“Now, Gentlemen of the Jury,”said

The coroner-“this woman’s child

By misadventure met its death.”

“Aye, aye,” said we. The mother smiled.

And I could see that child’s one eye

Which seemed to laugh, and say with glee:

“ What caused my death you’ll never know-

perhaps my mother murdered me.”