But it happened unto
them according to the true proverb,
The dog is turned to his own vomit again; and the sow
that was washed to her wallowing in the mire.
that lone breath speaking from my true heart then,
Like whirlwind and respiration and space and leafy zephyr,
Sober and pious—and anonymity seemed somehow to suffer,
Because the anonymous held the critical resolution of men.
The closed closet door, the semi-gloom of the den,
Were not heartbreak—a mental anguish they had to proffer.
Passive hearing was in silence; no sigh, groan, or cough, or
Weeping interruption, as if another haunt, as full of sin:
Reported as a matter of fact, the coldness and boldness of brass.
Uncognizant of me, beyond the door, him immediate
Worshipped as best ascertained by the understanding class
Of Greek philosophy, ‘THE UNKNOWN GOD' who cares who won,
One Spirit's sake, conscious, at liberty to hover and pass,
And fade was cause and effect, was present and was gone.