Once again in my accustomed place
I sit with sunshine falling in my face,
For but a moment paused amid the race
The rats still run while yet the plague does spread,
Undriven by the flea that had once led
The valedictor to his dear one's bed
When once she two bloods joined as one did spill.
For now, at least, I have not fallen ill,
The lottery whose tickets pay for thrill
Of going out, unmasking, thus to win
A prize that seems to give itself again
To all it sees. It is accounted sin
For us to spread ourselves without concern
Even when we do not, fevered, burn.
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