Doctor of Billiards by Edwin Arlington Robinson

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Of all among the fallen from on high, / We count you last and leave you to regain

Your born dominion of a life made vain

By three spheres of insidious ivory.

You dwindle to the lesser tragedy -

Content, you say. We call, but you remain.

Nothing alive gone wrong could be so plain, / Or quite so blasted with absurdity.

You click away the kingdom that is yours, / And you click off your crown for cap and bells;

You smile, who are still master of the feast, / And for your smile we credit you the least; / But when your false, unhallowed laugh occurs, / We seem to think there may be something else.

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