Classic Poem

Mercy hides him in a hole,
Justice moves in haughty places;
Mercy travels like the mole
In the solitary soul,
Justice walks with heavy paces
Through the city's solemn arches
In the parks he prinks, and marches
Covered with an ermine stole.

Mercy knows him for a thief,
If he knew where Mercy cowered
He would try him without brief,
Nail him to the tree of Grief,
Which for centuries has towered
In the court of Justice, yearly
Hung with human lives and rarely
Breaking into bitter leaf.