Suicide
William Ernest Henley
1849 to 1903
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
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He has told me all his troubles.
And his children in the workhouse
White and wild his eyeballs glisten;
Yet so slavish, makes you shudder!
Stupid now with shame and sorrow,
Staring corpselike at the ceiling,
Lack of work and lack of victuals,
In the night I hear him sobbing.
See his harsh, unrazored features,
In his broad face, tanned and bloodless,
Made the world so black a riddle
And his throat—so strangely bandaged!
And his smile, occult and tragic,
But sometimes he talks a little.
And, although his knife was edgeless,
That he plunged for a solution;
When they came, and found, and saved him.
Ghastly brown against the pillow,
He was sinking fast towards one,
A debauch of smuggled whisky,