Its coloured lines where deeds of flesh stand bald.

True of the man, and of mankind 'tis true,

Did we stout battle with the Shade, Despair,

Our cowardice, it blooms; or haply warred

Against the primal beast in us, and flung;

Or cleaving mists of Sorrow, left it starred

Above self-pity slain: or it was Prayer

First taken for Life's cleanser; or the tongue