For Judgment Poem by Sir Lewis Morris

THE form was young, the face was fair,
Her hands seemed still together tied,
'Twas as if Eve was standing there,
With the stern guardian at her side.

I mused on all the depths of will,
Of judgment, knowledge, right, and wrong.
The pleadings crept their course, and still
I sat in musings sad and long.

But when they ceased the tale of shame,
And the cold voice pronounced her name,
But one thought held me, that was all,
'Twas thus we did my sister call.