Dost thou dream in the night of existence
’Mong the things that have been and but seem,
Of thy passionate pulseful resistance
To the cad that consigned to the stream?
Dost thou dream, when of terriers the gamest
Thou didst leap from the leash to be freed,
And the blood of the rats thou o’ercamest
Besprinkled the mead?
By the maidens who love us and flatter,
By the maidens who flout us and jeer,