The moon shines through the clouds See the black bird on a tree His voice is loud, and clear I think he is laughing at me I am writing a last letter While I wait for my end And I am still wondering How did I come into this land They even can say I'm a witch I never even touched this stuff They always ask me to confess Now I see i'm not so tough I'm afraid of the torture So I sit in agony Dont know what I should do I would confess to get free You will hang on the big black tree Said the hangman right to me At the crossing of the two dark ways So you better enjoy your last days _________________________________ By Dickinson