THE maiden lies upon the couch wrapped in a troubled sleep.
The day is drawing to a close, the shadows darkly creep
In wavy weird fantastic form. May her good Angel keep
Evil away, come let us pray with fervency deep.

Gentle Elvina, breathing hard, began to whisper low,
Clasping both hands about her head she shook it to and fro,
Sobbing aloud these broken words "Please, Judge, do let him go."

"Heaven I do beseech thee, please, I ask on bended knee,
Grant me this request, dear Lord, and send him back to me,
I'll penance say both night and day, but only set him free."

Soon from the casement came a shout up from the busy street,
The fresh young boyish voice arose above the falling sleet.
"Last edition, buy my paper, all the news complete."

The little girl despairing gasps. She learns the truth full soon.
Found guilty on the second count, the Jury out since noon. Gentle Elvina gave one scream, then sank into a swoon.

Unconsciousness, most charitably kind, however brief,
Comes to an end. She wakes, she moans, all overcome with grief.
Kind friends now try to help the girl but cannot bring relief.

For many days all in one maze the brain intense quite dense,
Whirls in and out all round about reaching one consequence.
The pendulum swings forth red wroth all on the anxious fence.
What shall we do, poor girl so true, where sails your brain, ah whence?

Gentle Elvina keeps her bed. The same heartbroken wail
Day after day, "Tell me do pray, where, oh where is the jail,
Where have they put my lover, tell me, is he out on bail?
See, I am strong enough to walk, oh, take me to the jail."

The girl, now wanders on the street, stumbles through wind and hail.
Sobbing aloud the same heartbroken, useless, fruitless wail,
"Kind friends, oh tell—I seek his cell, oh where, where is the jail."

Day after day, month after month, she walks along the street,
Oh dire inquire with brain all fire, with weary aching feet—
The same old wail, "where is the jail, oh, shall we never meet!"

At last she learns the awful truth. Her lover pined away.
Despairing in his lonely cell, wearing out. There he lay, Calling on her he loved to come and cast one last bright ray
Upon his soul ere muffled roll call to the judgment day.

They buried him in the jail yard, along with a bunch of yeggs,
Departed chums of the lock step, society's lowest dregs,
In a pit of lime, one puddle of grime, like ill-conditioned eggs.

See that crowd on the corner, what are they looking at?
Only a bundle of rags, two hands, one face, that's all, just that.
To give this picture a classic name, we'll call it "After the bat."

They buried her in a pauper's grave, she has no friends to claim—
All disclaim the poor little girl. Nobody knows her name.
And so they call her "Number Six," the very last in the game.

Now come with me and we shall see, together we will glance,
Into the world beyond. Unfurled, my soul it doth enhance
Ten thousand fold what I behold. I see as in a trance.

The little girl is happy now, most joyful mystery.
The lovers are together and forever they shall be
United, no more trouble, no parting, ever free.
Love and be loved is theirs, oh blessed bright decree,
Comforting two broken hearts, uniting he and she,
Songs of praise forevermore throughout eternity.

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