A Wounded Deer -- leaps highest --

Ive heard the Hunter tell --

Tis but the Ecstasy of death --

And then the Brake is still!

The Smitten Rock that gushes!

The trampled Steel that springs!

A Cheek is always redder

Just where the Hectic stings!

Mirth is the Mail of Anguish

In which it Cautious Arm,

Lest anybody spy the blood

And youre hurt exclaim!