Behold Me Waiting - Waiting For The Knife. A Little While, And At A Leap I Storm The Thick, Sweet Mystery Of Chloroform, The Drunken Dark, The Little Death-In-Life. The Gods Are Good To Me: I Have No Wife, No Innocent Child, To Think Of As I Near The Fateful Minute; Nothing All-Too Dear Unmans Me For My Bout Of Passive Strife. Yet Am I Tremulous And A Trifle Sick, And, Face To Face With Chance, I Shrink A Little: My Hopes Are Strong, My Will Is Something Weak. Here Comes The Basket? Thank You. I Am Ready. But, Gentlemen My Porters, Life Is Brittle: You Carry Caesar And His Fortunes - Steady!