in fold: 
     To carrion turning what flesh he touched. 
     And O the grace of his air,
     As he at the goblet sips,
     A centre of girdles loosed,
     With their grisly label, Sold! 
     Credulous hears the fidelity swear,
     Which has roving eyes over yielded lips: 
     To-morrow will fancy himself the seduced,
     The stuck in a treacherous slough,
     Because of his faith in a purchased pair,
     False to a vinous vow.

     In his glory of banquet strip him bare,
     And what is the creature we view? 
     Our pursy Apollo Apollyon’s tool;
     A small one, still of the crew
     By serpent Apollyon blest: 
     His plea in apology, blindfold Fool. 
     A fool surcharged, propelled, unwarned;
     Not viler, you hear him protest: 
     Of a popular countenance not incorrect. 
     But deeds are the picture in essence, deeds
     Paint him the hooved and homed,
     Despite the poor pother he pleads,
     And his look of a nation’s elect. 
     We have him, our quarry confessed! 
     And scan him:  the features inspect
     Of that bestial multiform:  cry,
     Corroborate I, O Samian Sage! 
     The book of thy wisdom, proved
     On me, its last hieroglyph page,
     Alive in the horned and hooved? 
     Thou! will he make reply.

     Thus has the plenary purse
     Done often:  to do will engage
     Anew upon all of thy like, or worse. 
     And now is thy deepest regret
     To be man, clean rescued from beast: 
     From the grip of the Sorcerer, Gold,
     Celestially released.

     But now from his cavernous hold,
     Free may thy soul be set,
     As a child of the Death and the Life, to learn,
     Refreshed by some bodily sweat,
     The meaning of either in turn,
     What issue may come of the two:-
     A morn beyond mornings, beyond all reach
     Of emotional arms at the stretch to enfold: 
     A firmament passing our visible blue. 
     To those having nought to reflect it, ’tis nought;
     To those who are misty, ’tis mist on the beach
     From the billow withdrawing; to those who see
     Earth, our mother, in thought,
     Her spirit it is, our key.

     Ay, the Life and the Death are her words to us here,
     Of one significance, pricking the blind. 
     This is thy gain now the surface is clear: 
     To read with a soul in the mirror of mind
     Is man’s chief lesson.—­Thou smilest!  I preach! 
     Acid smiling, my friend, reveals
     Abysses within; frigid preaching a street
     Paved unconcernedly smooth
     For the lecturer straight on his heels,
     Up and down a policeman’s beat;
     Bearing tonics not labelled to soothe. 
     Thou hast a disgust of the sermon in rhyme. 
     It is not attractive