It dropped so low — in my Regard —
I heard it hit the Ground —
And go to pieces on the Stones
At bottom of my Mind —
Yet blamed the Fate that flung it — less
Than I denounced Myself,
For entertaining Plated Wares
Upon my Silver Shelf —
-
-
The Doomed — regard the Sunrise
With different Delight —
Because — when next it burns abroad
They doubt to witness it —
The Man — to die — tomorrow —
Harks for the Meadow Bird —
Because its Music stirs the Axe
That clamors for his head —
Joyful — to whom the Sunrise...