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A wounded Deer - leaps highest -
A wounded Deer - leaps highest - I've heard the Hunter tell - 'Tis but the Extasy 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 "you're hurt" exclaim!
A wounded deer jumps the highest. I have heard the hunter say. It is just the ecstasy of death. And then the thicket is quiet.
The struck rock that gushes! The crushed steel that springs! A cheek is always redder Just where the hectic stings!
Joy is the armor of pain, In which it carefully hides, So that no one sees the blood And exclaims, 'You're hurt!'