What care the Dead, for Chanticleer --

What care the Dead, for Chanticleer --
What care the Dead for Day?
'Tis late your Sunrise vex their face --
And Purple Ribaldry -- of Morning

Pour as blank on them
As on the Row[^a1]Tier of Wall
The Mason builded, yesterday,
And equally as cool --

[^a1: Row | Row]

What care the Dead for Summer?
The Solstice had no Sun
Could melt[^a2]waste the Snow before their Gate --
And knew One Bird a Tune

[^a2: melt | melt]

Could penetrate[^a3]thrill their Mortised Ear
Of all the Birds that be --
This One -- beloved of Mankind
Henceforward cherished be --

[^a3: penetrate | penetrate]

Nor[^a4]What care the Dead for Winter?
Themselves as easy freeze --
June Noon -- as January Night --
As soon the South -- her Breeze

[^a4: Nor | Nor]

Of Sycamore -- or Cinnamon --
Deposit in a Stone And put a
Stone to keep it Warm --
Give Spices -- unto Men --