The heart asks pleasure first,

And then, excuse from pain ;

And then, those little anodynes

That deaden suffering ;


And then, to go to sleep ;...

Poet:

The Popular Heart is a Cannon first —

Subsequent a Drum —

Bells for an Auxiliary

And an Afterward of Rum —


Not a Tomorrow to know its name

Nor a Past to stare —

Ditches for Realms and a Trip to Jail...

Poet: