The trees stand side by side, a man between the two
and to them both he casts his sad and weary gaze,
and weak, exhausted, broken, one he must pursue:
upon one or the other he must end his days;
and to the West stood one, a crooked, broken tree,
and swinging from it was a broken man, a rope
suspending head unharmed and slumped, arms loose and free,
and swaying in the breeze, beyond all help and hope;
and to the East and facing north, a straighter tree,
a broken body fastened to it, hands and feet,
but arms outstretched, embracing earth and sky and sea,
his face so pained! so worn out from a work complete!
So West or East, O man? Where point your weary way?
At which tree's foot will you find your eternal seat?
At one the body will forever freely sway;
but at the other, suff'ring faces break of day!
