In prison for reading the city reading There is a pit of shame and in it lies a wretched man Eaten by teeth of flame, burning winding sheet he lies, and his grave still has no name. And there until Christ evoke the dead, in silence let lie: No need to waste the foolish tear, Or heave the windy sigh: The man was killed on something he loved, And so he had to die. And all men kill the thing they love, all let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word, The coward doe