| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Lucrezia Borgia’s Last Letter | | By Antoinette DeCoursey Patterson |
| | | BEFORE me shine the words of her last letter— | |
| Lucrezia Borgia to the Pope at Rome— | |
| Wherein she begs, as life’s remaining fetter | |
| Slips from her, that his prayers will guide her home: | |
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| The favor God has shown to me confessing, | 5 |
| As swift my end approaches, Father, I, | |
| A Christian though a sinner, ask your blessing | |
| And kiss your feet in all humility. | |
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| The thought of death brings no regret, but pleasure; | |
| And after the last sacrament great peace | 10 |
| Will be mine own—in overflowing measure, | |
| If but your mercy marks my soul’s release. | |
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| And here the letter finds a sudden ending, | |
| As though the dying hand had lost its power: | |
| My children to Rome’s love and care commending— | 15 |
| Ferrara—Friday—at the fourteenth hour. | |
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| An odor as of incense faintly lingers | |
| About the page of saintly sophistries— | |
| And I am thinking clever were the fingers | |
| That could mix poison and write words like these. | 20 | | | |
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