LIFE
The smitten rock that gushes,
The trampled steel that springs:
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings!
The trampled steel that springs:
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings!
Mirth is the mail of anguish,
In which it caution arm,
Lest anybody spy the blood
And “You’re hurt” exclaim!
In which it caution arm,
Lest anybody spy the blood
And “You’re hurt” exclaim!
IX
THE heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;
And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.
X
A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasure ’tis
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,
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