A shroud; a shade; a fleeting imprint wrought

Of smoke, of shadow, half-imagin'd, lit

By longing, from a midnight silence brought

And banished, with a look, now, bit by bit.

A stain; a smear; a blotch upon the name

That had for cent'ries pure, untarnished, stood,

To those who raged, denied: a scar, a shame-

But for the self-struck victim, no less good.

This never was, in some forgotten age,

Nor yet among those tribes whose ways are not

Corrupted yet by th'gods of this new stage

Of social order, which has Earth forgot.

There ne'er was any psychic illness known

When mankind claimed not Nature for its own.