Shivered and sank
Subdued into blackness.
That is my Toil;
I am the Poker.

Oh, and the burglar's head
Often hath felt me,
Hard, undesirable
Cracker of craniums.
I have drunk of the blood,
The red blood, the life-blood
Of the wife of the drunkard.
Hoh! then, the glory.
The joyous, ineffable
Cup of fulfilment,
When the policeman,
Tall with a bull's-eye,
Took me and shook me,
Produced me in evidence,
There in the dim
Unappeasable grisliness
Of the Police-Court.
Women to shrink at me,
Men to be cursed with me,
Bloodstained, contemptuous,
Laid on the table.
I am the Minister,
Azrael's Minister.
I am the Poker.